Crashing - The Residents

The weather vane was pointing eastward

When we heard the sound

Of rolling thunder underneath

The shed above the ground

The gentle breezes long ago

Had given way to rain

When, moving in between the clouds

We saw a shaking plane

As we looked up and stood upon

The field that we had plowed

It seemed to stop and strangulate

Upon the darkest cloud

It made a graceful arching dive

Into a field of grass

Yesterday we found a purse

Today we found some glass