1.Pay no heed to the fool
in the field so far and grey... with spies, like the
serpents underfoot and rodents. Legs of wood, burlap, canvas,
belt, and hood...and
scream like freezing, rusty nails and stitches running through
his neck...
(chorus one)
There´s straw in his brains and his clothing is stained with
mice and small
newts and the perfectly maimed. Don`t look under his hood in the
place where he
stood or you´ll find yourself running from the rook in the wood.
(chorus two)
Wind and leaves are rustling, turning, naked branches reaching,
reaching.
Taunted vigil, weeping on his stick... now he´s bleeding. He can
hear the pest and
when it´s gnawing through. Rope and rowan cast him when the
Raven flew...
He can be the darkness in
the trees, feel the hollow, and then frighten
children far too young for this winter. He can live his fear and
die and talk again...
always in the glade where dark and chill begin...
(bridge)
He stalks the patch at night and scratch... and fly!
Stepping lightly, tries so hard to stain... underneath!
And then crawls the dampened earth like fog... tasting blades!
And then falling back until he sleeps... screaming softly!