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​Stormfront

This song is by Garnet Rogers and appears on the album Sparrow's Wing (1999).

As silent as the voice of God
These empty barren hills.
They hover above the dry plain
They shimmer in the distance.
I feel a sudden chill.
The ground is dry and cracked like an old man's skin
Stretched across the plain.
Lightning flickering across the thunderhead.
Empty promises of rain.

Some kind of stormfront on the move tonight
Feel the tension in the air.
Dust devils dance on the side of the highway.
Leaves and garbage everywhere.
Mothers call their kids from the door
"C'mon get inside, shut the windows, lock them tight."
The sun has burned its bridges
Plunged into the mountains in a sea of steam
And poison light.

I hear thunder bumping boxcars in the valley,
The wind is laughing up my sleeve,
The cars have turned their headlights on
It's way past time- I should be gone.

We've turned our towns into a filthy joke
Like a theme park built for swine.
We bulldoze farms, fields, turn them into strip malls
Nobody seems to mind.
Who elected these cheap hustlers anyway?
This worthless pack of pimps and whores.
The developers come smiling with their pockets jingling full of change
We get down on all fours.

I hear thunder bumping boxcars in the valley,
The wind is laughing up my sleeve,
The cars have turned their headlights on
It's way past time- I should be gone.

And I don't want your Black Hills gold
Not at any price.
We built a trail of tears and broken trees through here
And then we swarmed the earth like lice.
Townhouses, casinos, and trailer parks
Cheap neon light up the falling night.
I saw the Four Horsemen ride through here about an hour ago
They were sickened at the sight.

I hear thunder bumping boxcars in the valley,
The wind is laughing up my sleeve,
The cars have turned their headlights on
It's way past time- I should be gone.

These highway signs are full of bullet holes
Burnt rubber cross the road.
Someone's angry about something somewhere here
They're just waiting to unload.
We're putting bombs in buildings,
Bombs in letters, bombs in trucks.
We're drowning kids in the backs of cars
We're dressing killers in Armani suits
We turn them into TV stars.

We've become a race of leering voyeurs
We're big on progress sex and death.
Something evil is lurking in the darkness here with me
And I can smell its stinking breath
It's in the blankness of our children's stares
It's in a courtroom in a suit
It's in the hand that holds gun that made these bullet holes
It's a secret pocket filled with loot

It's the soft white faces
Of these soft white men
With their soft white grasping hands,
Who laugh and sneer at those who have to stand and wait in line
And never got their chance.

I hear thunder bumping boxcars in the valley,
The wind is laughing up my sleeve,
The cars have turned their headlights on
It's way past time- I should be gone.

I hear thunder bumping boxcars in the valley,
The wind is laughing up my sleeve,
The cars have turned their headlights on
It's way past time- I should be gone.
Something says: "I'll never leave."

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