The coffee beanery was about to explode
Or was it a field
Nobody knows
Nobody saw it coming
But for days
The forecast predicted frost
The TV's radiated ice
The Toyota became a baked Alaska
And if we took out our spoons
The windshield wipers scraping beneath
A little work for dessert
If every course would put up a good fight first
All that you build will probably fall someday
Then you'll be left with only Polaroids
So, what I want to know is when the sky caves in
Who's gonna pick up the pieces then
The signs, they were all there before
A blink of barrette the waves crashing down on the colonials
Everybody said "don't get caught, darling, you gonna end up in a Folgers tin"
But even they liked the storm
And they drive me batty when they say things like that
'Cause you know I