The temperature's through the floor Your fingers are turning black There’s a crisis knocking at your door
One nine seven seven One nine seven seven
You had better try to make it home The snow is getting too deep to drive your car might be your coffin
One nine seven seven One nine seven seven
We’re never gonna see the summer, This season is coming, long and hard. Yeah this town is going under This season's going to kill us all.
Catch the snowflakes little children Count them as they bury you alive Count them as they choke the road ways A blizzard's coming in the year punk died
One nine seven seven
This season has left us all helpless I can't see and even God is blind And deaf to all your prayers
One nine seven seven One nine seven seven
There’s nothing that you can do The weathers stronger than us all The sky is going to crush you
One nine seven seven One nine seven seven
This season’s growing cold I fear that this could be the end There’s no sign of hope We’ve got a crisis on our hands.
The junkie is stuck indoors pretty soon he’s gonna need a fix but the weather’s not gonna let him He's starting to get the itch
The season’s holding us all hostage Better do whatever it demands Nature knows that we've got a crisis Weighing on our frost bitten hands
(One) There’s nothing that you can do The sky is gonna crush you. (Nine) There’s nothing that you can do The sky is gonna crush you. (Seven) There’s nothing that you can do The sky is gonna crush you. (Seven) There’s nothing that you can do The sky is gonna crush you.
This season’s growing cold I fear that this could be the end And there’s no sign of hope We’ve got a crisis on our hands.
Compositores: Christopher Raymond Steele, Dallas John Green (Alexisonfire), George Douglas Pettit (Alexisonfire), Jordan Michael Hastings, Wade Gordon Macneil (Alexisonfire) ECAD: Obra #10210356 Fonograma #12681108