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
With its anger
La la la la
La la la la
La la la
La la la
La la la
Hey
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