In the middle of a Field
Stands a scarecrow-man
with a cap
Prestige worn out coat
hangs on his neck
The shape looks crooked
Like a fantasy
witch-doctor
Face is an infertile
wilderness
He can’t perceive people
Head is filled with crap
Doesn’t think, as he
doesn’t have to
Scarecrow-man moves!
And gets into actions when
summoned
A false witty man set him
up
Some Black Crows soar
around and destroy the Crops
Together they row
To predict something
unpredictable
In the 21st
century.
11/25/2005
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