Head for the barn.
Cascade the mountain side, finetooth comb the fields.
This is a scarecrow nightmare.
Harvest time has come
Buried to your neck.
Twilight fades over blood,
What a fuck trophy cliche.

Within childlike facades.
Behind a suit of straw
Buried to your neck
Idolized on your post.
The crows are circling again

You bring down the heavens.
I'll upheave the gates.
This is a war of empires.
Black suits and leather lined suitcases
bring the memo paper this will be,
Something to remember.
Fax the flyers and restock the desks.

Here's your trend.
Choose your side.
To help you climb the giant oak.

Stockmarket crash, points drop.
A carbon monoxide pipe dream.

Domestic abuse powertrips.
Carbine hollow tip piercings.