In The Lowlands

Crowded House · Temple Of Low Men [1988]

Out here in panic and alarm

Black shapes gather in the distance



The first drops land on the window

The first sign that there's something wrong



Which way, which way

Two days till I get to you



Where I go there'll be no kind welcome

Coming down upon me



Feel my face

Now the insects swarm



Fear will take the place of desire

And we will fan the flames on high



The sky fell underneath a blanket

The sun sank as the miles went by



When you remember it makes you cry

Ghost cars on the freeway



One by one they are disappearing

Time will keep me warm



Now the insects swarm

In the lowlands



And we will fan the flames on high