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The Weather Machine

Jon Gomm

Well, it’s high noon at the Last Chance saloon
Second home to racketeers
Where the magic man sells his masterplan
He’s a global pioneer

He says: Villains roam towards our homes
And they’ll burn away the clouds
But my new invention, my weather engine
Is already eastward bound

Terraform the desert into paradise
With our weather machine
We’ll perform the necessary sacrifice
With our weather machine

So the giant device spewing liquid ice
Is flown to foreign lands
Where the locals curse their forever thirst
And the neverending sands

But the rain falls hot with a kilowatt
Of the magic man’s bloodlust
And funny little rivers form
Black ribbons in the dust

Terraform the desert into paradise
With our weather machine
We’ll perform the necessary sacrifice
With our weather machine

Spinning words at the hungry herds
He’s twisting a new truth
It’s the magic man and his faithful gang
Dreaming of eternal youth

He says: Villains roam towards our homes
And they’ll burn away the clouds
But worry not, cause I wrote the plot
And I know how it turns out

Terraform the desert into paradise
With our weather machine
We’ll perform the necessary sacrifice
With our weather machine

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