Flatline

Flatline

The light gleams like acetylene
On this house in the outland
The bed clay is a cracked hand
Where all water disappears
And all the atmosphere is barely breathing
Dust is sweeping to and fro
The flies are thick as soup
And wounds are weeping
We'll not be coming here again
Cause there's a flat line creeping through the sun
It's got a choke hold on everyone
Guess this dust-bowl lease is already run
Cause there's a flat line creeping through the sun
And it's so hot
And it's so hot
In the new world order
There's no one here today
Even the ghosts are gone
The barn door's banging in the wind
The flies are glowing green
And wounds are weeping
We'll not be coming here again
Cause there's a flat line creeping through the sun
It's got a choke hold on everyone
Guess this dust-bowl lease has already run
Cause there's a flat line creeping through the sun
And it's so hot
And it's so hot
And the ants dream of a new world order