I'm longing for a storm to blow through town And blow these sad old buildings down Fire to burn what fire may And rain to wash it all away But the storm won't come But the storm won't come I'm longing for the storm But the storm won't come There's a smell of death where I lay my head So I'll go to the storm instead I'll seek it out, stand in the rain Thunder and lightning, and I'll scream my name But it's never the same But it's never the same The storm must come to me And the storm won't come Not a leaf is stirred, nor dust is blown There is no storm, so I'll make my own Paint up the walls and I'll burn what's rotten Throw out all the old and the half-forgotten But I'm not as strong But I'm not as strong As the wind and the rain And the storm won't come But the storm won't come And the storm won't come I'm longing for the storm But the storm won't come