| It ain’t rained for two months and seven days
|
| And the boys at the station sit around and wait
|
| Cause all it takes is a little spark
|
| And it’s out of hand 'fore it even starts
|
| It ain’t rained for two months and seven days
|
| The fields are dry and the creek bed shows
|
| And the bird man cuts through the radio
|
| But I love the thought of tossing matches
|
| Running my fingers through the ashes
|
| The fields are dry and the creek bed shows
|
| Sound the alarm
|
| Call up all the volunteers
|
| Cause you ain’t seen a fire like this in all of your years
|
| Once the wind picks up no chance in hell you’ll put it out
|
| Its gonna burn that damn house to the ground
|
| You can see the smoke from miles away
|
| And everybody knows just who’s to blame
|
| They’ll be things you can’t get back
|
| Like a happy home and photographs
|
| You can see the smoke from miles away
|
| Sound the alarm
|
| Call up all the volunteers
|
| Cause you ain’t seen a fire like this in all of your years
|
| Once the wind picks up no chance in hell you’ll put it out
|
| Its gonna burn that damn house to the ground
|
| Ooh…
|
| Thought you had me fooled but I knew all along
|
| I never bought a single lie from that silver tongue
|
| Yeah, I might do some time for this
|
| But there’s nothing left I’m gonna miss
|
| Thought you had me fooled but I knew all along
|
| Sound the alarms
|
| Call up all the volunteers
|
| Cause you ain’t seen a fire like this in all of your years
|
| Once the wind picks up no chance in hell you’ll put it out
|
| I’m gonna burn that damn house to the ground
|
| I’m gonna burn that damn house to the ground
|
| Oh, to the ground
|
| Oh, to the ground |