Album - Crisis [2006]
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YEAH!

This town is going under.

The temperature is through the floor
Your fingers are turning black
There’s a crisis knocking at your door

One nine seven seven
One nine seven seven

You better try to make it home
The snow is getting too deep to drive
Your car might be your coffin

One nine seven seven
One nine seven seven

You’re never gonna see the summer,
This season [bad word]  long and hard.
This town is going under
This season is going to kill us all.

Count the snowflakes little children
Count them as they bury you alive
Count them as they bury the road ways
[bad word] in the year punk died

One nine seven seven

This season’s left us all helpless
I can’t see and even god is blind
And deaf to all your friends

One nine seven seven
One nine seven seven

There’s nothing that you can’t do
This weather will never let us through
The sky is going to [bad word] you

One nine seven seven
One nine seven seven

This season’s growing cold
I fear that this could be the end
There’s no sign of hope
We’ve got a crisis on our hands.

The junkie is trapped indoors
pretty soon he’s gonna need a fix
but the weather’s not gonna let him
And he's starting to get the itch

The season’s holding us all hostage
Better do whatever it demands
We should know that we’ve got a crisis
Weighing on our frostbitten hands

(One)
There’s nothing that you can do
The sky is gonna [bad word] you.

(Nine)
There’s nothing that you can do
The sky is gonna [bad word] you.

(Seven)
There’s nothing that you can do
The sky is gonna [bad word] you.

(Seven)
There’s nothing that you can do
The sky is gonna [bad word] you.

This season’s growing cold
I fear that this could be the end
And there’s no sign of hope
We’ve got a crisis on our hands