My hurricane is here, humming through phone wires And humour, near tears maybe but part of life You hurricane will be Gods signature Signing organdy fields and foliage in squares of organised history Calm light and bitter winds. These hills have seen more blood That this. The landscape is littered with peace And surrounded by roads. Smoketree on the horizon Your hurricane is for the dispossessed and the names of saints Mine is the heart to heart and the pulse that races This is a dark song And no mistake Take this gun and shoot This is a tv And this is a street And the man who loves you is lost Clean and neat, where the water meets the shore Old buildings are propping up the sky Heading out to sea, what a lot of boats! The wind stinging the eyes, drink stinging the throat Shes dressed for the bedroom on a clifftop in autumn Staring unfocused at overcast skies Lets go and point a mountain, eat comme chez soi And burn the soul cats from their homes This is a folk song And no mistake Take my gun and shoot This is a tv And this is your room And the man who loves you is you The writing in the sky shows were not at home Advertising music, it shows were not alone Its characters look like faces, local commercial Priapic and car crash, dollyrich. Youre right to be scared Your lovers left Your friends are right And nothing is what you hold But getting old And killing things Is the natural order of the world And let me tell you something else dear This is not your country You just live here Back home, there are boy racers heading for the bridge The tracks of tyres and the smoke from fires, guns in the hold Marks of past volcanoes and wars, trees and churches Broken by history and surrounded by new towns. Also A preview of coming attractions, nakedness uncovered Unreasonable suspicion. Look out your rear window and update! Little girl prove a masculine point, pretty little cockatoo Should smash his jaw. My hurricane does not exempt me Remember that green, thats the green of the green man The colour of the world that knew Saracen Before Iraq and Iran There were the heathen and the Christian gentlemen Your hurricane does not exempt you, but mine can Fires into the sea like mouths, fires under the water There are lupins growing on ash, there graphs like fir trees Nursery plants for a new forestry on Mt St Helens. Lets go New lands with better order may have better parties Sorry, caller, were out celebrating a successful Border crossing. Signed under fire
hurricane, exempt, stinging, fire, green