The Moon

Followed you screamed from the oak
Roaming flame falls to the streets
Where the Scarecrow watched his field,
climbed the hill
the ruins were found, the Omen took form
Fires and forests, the night which to hide
You called it Nebraska, said he died
God told the demons he was not impressed
The Autumn to me had no end in sight

Yet all of this place has passed me by
The New Harvest has died
Boundless and dead, it's mercies are none
My thoughts to the days are too far to be

The conquering Winter is barren of snow
The Haunted Moon has turned to glass
Torturing, taunting, "My heir will be worse."
I watch now the sky as it darkens grey

Said "Good-bye" to the crow
Waved "Good Night" to the moon
Black Branches Like Knives...