I'm longing for a storm to blow through town
And blow these sad old buildings down
Fire to burn what fire may
And rain to wash it all away
But the storm won't come
But the storm won't come
I'm longing for the storm
But the storm won't come
There's a smell of death where I lay my head
So I'll go to the storm instead
I'll seek it out, stand in the rain
Thunder and lightning, and I'll scream my name
But it's never the same
But it's never the same
The storm must come to me
And the storm won't come
Not a leaf is stirred, nor dust is blown
There is no storm, so I'll make my own
Paint up the walls and I'll burn what's rotten
Throw out all the old and the half-forgotten
But I'm not as strong
But I'm not as strong
As the wind and the rain
And the storm won't come
But the storm won't come
And the storm won't come
I'm longing for the storm
But the storm won't come
