This Is Only a Test - The Tornado
Hara-kiri, kids, come kill yourself
Slice your throats and spurt the blood
Paint a wall cloud weather cell
A vortex of self
Put your tongue in the mouth of the old funnel cloud, Adel
And I have become pregnant with myself
Bloated bellies distended out like corpses sweat and swell
We fucked ourselves
Let our thighs fall to each side of the cyclone they sell
No pie graphs or charts to speak of
No slogans for the repeating
No silver bullet was shot
No hand over heart, no X marks the spot
No catchphrase for stars a-feignin'
No big letter writing campaign
No fanfare fills up the room
No interviews, no big kaboom
The fruit is falling 'cause the tree is rotting, my dear
You were a good mare for the state
But you're no longer needed here
Go back to your coup
I will chop off my head as an act of contrition for you
I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows
When the shit goes down, we're gonna turn this thing around
I'll keep tying my shoes, there's no telling when you
Everybody now, we're gonna turn this thing around
So I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows
If it will touch down, we're gonna turn this thing around
I'll keep tying my shoes, there's no telling when you
Everybody now, everybody now!
The whistling, winding trees, the boiling of the seas
We know what you are
The hum of coming trains, the connection we can't maintain
We know what you are, we know what you are
The whistling, winding trees, the buzz of a billion bees
We know what you are
The hum of coming trains, the connection we can't maintain
We know what you are, we know what you are
Slice your throats and spurt the blood
Paint a wall cloud weather cell
A vortex of self
Put your tongue in the mouth of the old funnel cloud, Adel
And I have become pregnant with myself
Bloated bellies distended out like corpses sweat and swell
We fucked ourselves
Let our thighs fall to each side of the cyclone they sell
No pie graphs or charts to speak of
No slogans for the repeating
No silver bullet was shot
No hand over heart, no X marks the spot
No catchphrase for stars a-feignin'
No big letter writing campaign
No fanfare fills up the room
No interviews, no big kaboom
The fruit is falling 'cause the tree is rotting, my dear
You were a good mare for the state
But you're no longer needed here
Go back to your coup
I will chop off my head as an act of contrition for you
I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows
When the shit goes down, we're gonna turn this thing around
I'll keep tying my shoes, there's no telling when you
Everybody now, we're gonna turn this thing around
So I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows
If it will touch down, we're gonna turn this thing around
I'll keep tying my shoes, there's no telling when you
Everybody now, everybody now!
The whistling, winding trees, the boiling of the seas
We know what you are
The hum of coming trains, the connection we can't maintain
We know what you are, we know what you are
The whistling, winding trees, the buzz of a billion bees
We know what you are
The hum of coming trains, the connection we can't maintain
We know what you are, we know what you are
Credits
Writer(s): John Ashley Congleton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
- If Nobody Moves Nobody Will Get Hurt - The Extinction
- I'm Going to Heaven With or Without You - The Forest Fire
- The Common Cold - The Epidemic
- The Laying of Hands the Speaking of Tongues - The Mass Hysteria
- Your Money or Your Life - The Comet
- What Should We Do With Your Body - The Lightning
- This Is a Rape - The Flood
- The Small of Your Back the Nape of Your Neck - The Blizzard
- This Is Only a Test - The Tornado
- We Have Ways to Make You Talk - The Human Condition
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