On the west end of town
The flagpoles are bending
The rain is coming down sideways
People are scared
There's no Noah here
They're sleeping on boats in their driveways
In the hills of the heartland
The children are dead
Tired from puddles a-splashing
But inside their homes
The parents have learned
The time it is less easy passing
Grandma remembers the day of the storm
She feels it again in her bones
The days full of rain
That blanket the Plains
From Tulsa
Up north to Chicago
Now I have grown
Too used to this joke
The calm is still all too frightening
The cellar is dank
And it gives off a feel
Of some place a bit more inviting
The waters to the bridge
On the river I live
The day to the night is binding
Don't take my home
Lord, don't leave me alone
A man does deserve but a reason
Tomorrow on the dawn
I'll be through them hills and gone
Never again to be returning
My towns been washed away
Rain like spit on my face
Watered down my hope into nothin'
Occasionally I look to the sky
And think on the ones I'll remember
The Earth will be dry
My family and I
Will be on higher ground
Come November
We'll be on higher ground
Come November
We'll be on higher ground
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