They bled your piggybanks and maimed your pride,
The straws were finally dry enough to light,
When did the rats begin to bite your legs?
Try and grasp a few more tracts of life.
All those scarecrows burning?
All those scarecrows burning?
In the flames i watched the last geese fly,
The embers floating, as you cursed the light.
On broken knees you will make a prayer,
These burning bridges will not last the night.
Are those scarecrows burning?
Are those scarecrows burning?
Will i see them bleeding soon?
Like slaughtered hogs, burnt by the moon?