We need the cannon ball pulled from its resting place,
Shot through his hungry heart while he was napping in the shade.
We need the cedar boughs to mop up this lake of blood
Spilled from the native sons he was trying to save.
It's too late to turn back,
Here he comes.
It's too late to turn back,
Here we come.
We need his wisdom, denser than these Ozark hills.
We need his appetite, deeper than the river swells.
We need a raccoon god, we gotta summon us a Coongod,
And watch the world unfurl as his fearsome tail.
It's too late to turn back,
Here he comes.
It's too late to turn back,
Here we come.
Hey, little girl, where's your sense of wonder?
Don't it make you feel so free to realize you're so small?
Just check out the Coongod, he's breaking down the Moloch.
He's breaking down the Moloch, he might save us all.
It's too late to turn back,
Here he comes.
It's too late to turn back,
Here we come.
credits
from Live/Demos '13-'14,
released August 2, 2014
Andrew Dietz - Vocals, guitar
Mark Gillenwaters - Drums
Shea Langner - Bass
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