Like they said in the days of old One day your faces will grow mold For the judgment is close at hand When the water will take back the land From the tallest of the tall To the pick-axe on the wall When every bitter soul is canned The water will take back the land There's a blow dryer stinging your eyes When the alcohol is starting to rise There's a fire hose on a marching band When the water will take back the land Your table where it blew into the smoke Where gravity certainly awoke There won't be no one left you can stand When the water will take back the land The graveyard is starting to fry And the moonshiners taking to the sky There's a stone turning to sand Where there water will take back the land