Storm Central

The media pundits, the crowd they play to and the disaster in their tracks.

Started out like just a fine day.

A stroll down Main Street, with cash to pay.

One look and the stores they all closed.

A sign of terror from a face that’s well known.

Kicked up the dirt, made the kids run;

this storm is brewing

man, this ain’t gonna be fun.

Storm central, coming to town.

Storms gather every time you walk down.

A cloud cover from a god from above.

A failed state of emotion and of love.

It’s just time that the clouds go away.

This storm is brewing

holding life at bay.

Was never like this before.

Was never hiding behind a front door.

But blaming others is always a balm

Erect a wall that reflects you are calm.

Here comes the wrecking ball, here comes the wrecking ball.

It’s gonna take us out. It’s gonna take us out.

It’s here to lock us out. It’s here lock us out.

Here comes the wrecking ball, here comes the wrecking ball.

It has us in it’s sights.

It wants us out tonight.

A jazzman plays, a singer sweats.

With each drop is a pile a debt.

And anvil sits and a hammer comes down

it’s sound brings your head further down.

The jazzman gets up, hit’s his note.

This storm’s a brewing

and the singer is flat broke.