Rainman was the very first song I wrote for Melodrama, and in many ways it became the emotional compass

for the entire album. It’s where the journey truly begins not only musically, but on a deeper, internal level.

Everything that followed, every theme and every sound, somehow traces back to the storm that formed inside this track.

The song was born out of a strange mix of stillness and chaos. I remember that opening line

“When you’re walkin’, through the rain…”  looping in my head for days. It felt less like a lyric and more

like a thought that refused to leave, a quiet whisper trying to pull something hidden to the surface.

The more I leaned into it, the more I realised Rainman wasn’t just a song it was a meditation on the moments

when you’re too hurt to feel, or too overwhelmed to speak, when pain and numbness blur into the same shade of grey.

Musically, Rainman carries that weight. The haunting piano lays the ground like soft footsteps on wet pavement,

while the mournful strings wrap around the melody like a cold breeze you can’t outrun. Then comes the soul-soaked saxophone a voice that cries, comforts, and confesses all at once. Together, they turn the song into a quiet storm,

a space where every drop of sound feels intentional.

The rain in this track isn’t just weather. It’s memory washing over you. It’s heartbreak that lingers.

It’s the soft, unspoken ache that pulses in your veins when life becomes a little too loud and you find yourself

trying to breathe in the middle of the noise. Rainman is the sound of standing in that moment helpless,

honest and human, letting the storm pass through you until something inside finally breaks open.