Ten thousand pilgrims looking back home
Ten thousand pilgrims wondering why they come
They ain’t got much going 'cept what’s in their genes
God’s gift of not knowing and tabloid magazines
They’re all waiting in their trailers tipping the jug
Watching their tv’s – waiting on a flood

Well the rooster he’s crowing he says it’s time
The rooster he’s crowing maybe it’s a sign
I been so patient saving up the days
Walking in the shadows listening to what they say
Got a hog and a razor, writing letters in blood
But nothing ever seems to come
When you’re waiting on a flood

I went to the sheriff, asked him how he rest
I went to the sheriff, he said it’s some kind of test
I got bullets in my mailbox, a target on my head
My chest is oh so heavy carrying 'round this lead
I’m all pinned down here like a frog in the mud
There ain’t nothing but me
Waiting on a flood

Silence it is golden like the rising of bread
Silence it is golden and it scares me to death
But in all that nothing and expectation dead
I feel a new sun rising from my heart to my head
And that ghost in the mirror hit the floor with a thud
Nothing ever come from
Waiting on a flood

Come over here baby, turn your lamp down low
Come over here baby, get your face off the floor
You been laying in the bedroom recounting your dreams
Don’t ya know our love is the spaces in between
You best settle on something to help you rise above
Or you’ll be there all your life
Waiting on a flood