[Verse 1] at dusk, when the sun went rust-brown red, and the power lines on the ridge buzzed over puddles slick with oil and lead. Then from the quarry came a roar that rattled dishes in the sink, and porch dogs went dead quiet as frost crept up the brink. [Pre-Chorus] Something moved through the dark. The moon went behind a cloud. Eyes on us, but we couldn’t tell what it was, or where it was headed. [Chorus] Pull the blinds, let the whole block stare, hear that sound cut through the air. No one’s sleeping, no one’s safe, when that beast comes out of the cave. Keep your phone down, keep it low, you can feel it in your bones. We don’t run, we don’t hide— we watch the sky go cold. [Verse 2] At the feed store, all the radios died, cash drawer stuck, screen door jammed. Old men stood with their hands on their hips, staring down the road like they’d seen it before. Somebody killed the porch bulb with a cap, and the air got thick and metal-sour, like a storm had parked itself out back and nobody wanted to say what for. [Bridge] By morning there were split fence posts, one tire sunk past the shoulder, two hens gone out of the coop and mud tracked up to the cistern. The culvert was plugged with cornstalks and fur, a gate sagged loose on its chain, and the last light on the ridge had slipped behind the barn by the south hay bale. Was that a modern day Dragon?
