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