Rhode Island - War With Iran Lyrics

The hottest time of day, put her hand on the car
Feel the flush of hot metal running straight to her heart
Her mind thinks up people and places and plans
The corner-shop owner predicts a war with Iran
A family caught in traffic as they pass by the church
The father tells the children if we're late it's god's work
People in the petrol station talk nuclear proliferation
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
Ba-da, ba-da, ba-da

Camp by the lake where the four boys drowned
Hollywood homes built on burial grounds
Teachers and policeman and conservative libertarians
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
Centuries of giving it, centuries of giving in
Uh-oh, lock the door and switch off the radio

The rise and fall of people with no past
We came, we saw, we never thought to ask
Stick out your arm, it's probably going to sting
Ba-da, ba-da, ba-da

People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams

The hottest time of year, smell of rot on the breeze
With the spiders in the house and general sense of unease
The junk mail is jammed up with exclamations and red ink
Like Jack Nicholson in The Shining you would kill for a drink
The photograph of Churchill in your grandparents' house
The mildew in the hallway leaves a taste in your mouth
People round the laser printer prophesise an Arab winter
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
Ba-da, ba-da, ba-da