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