The clouds roll in,
But the storm will pass,
Leaving nothing but death and destruction,
In its mile-wide path,

It won't leave trees,
Or life of any kind,
It won't leave homes,
Or clues for me to find,

It won't leave a print,
It will leave a stampede of tracks,
A crumble of homes,
And the streets full of cracks,

It'll leave a town without hope,
And a girl with no belief,
It's going to leave the neighbor's house,
And a single fallen leaf,

It'll take my love,
It will rip out my soul,
And all it will leave,
Is a deep, dark hole,

And the clouds rolled by,
The storm did flee,
But it left a little more than nothing,
The storm left me.