The Plague - The Mountain Goats

There will be blue skies

Above the green and verdant plain

Churns will swell with fresh butter

There will be an abundance of sweet grain

And we will rise from our sleep

We won’t have time to choose what things we’ll keep

And rivers will all turn to blood

Frogs will fall from the sky

And the plague will rage through the countryside

La la la la

La la la la

La la la, la la la, la la la

There will be cotton clouds

Above the fields as white as cream

There will be loud singing in the churches

As we all come out to take one for the team

And all our great schemes and plans

Will slip like fishes from our hands

And rivers will all turn to blood

Frogs will fall from the sky

And the plague will cover the country with its anger

La la la la

La la la la

La la la, la la la, la la la

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