The quiet before the storm is worse than the storm itself
You crossed your legs on the front porch and let out a slow sigh
You were watching the sun collapse into the blacken hills
I was watching you through the sweat
Burning in my eyes
Burning in my eyes

Where'd you put my water, Jack?
Where'd you put my ice water?
Why don't you find it and bring it back,
I might let you walk me to the altar.

Your little box of matches doesn't seem to be coming home
But you still sway in that swing all day and stare
As the picket fence keeps peeling
And the gate gets overgrown
Hoping there's a tornado
Touching down somewhere
Touching down somewhere

Where'd you put my water, Jack?
Where'd you put my ice water?
Why don't you find it and bring it back,
I might let you walk me to the altar.

Where'd you put my water, Jack?
Where'd you put my ice water?
Why don't you find it and bring it back,
I might let you walk me to the altar.