A SAD END IN THE FIELDS

The birds fled the plains as fast as raindrops came,

upon the ruby crops that moonlight hid from scarecrows lame.

'Tis what they feared, of those whose hearts burn bright in black,

when flies all feast 'fore Sol once more will sleep and Luna's back.

The scarecrow tilts his head against the flies and the crow,

the ruby crops all faint so slow as red turns black then now 'comes snow.

At Luna's peak these crops seemed known to none but one,

a poor young lad whose mute as the fields and grim as the crops.
Then those who came from the day's dying sun arrived once more,
made ruby red the crops the lad stood on from every pore.
And so its done, their deeds now won and none dare oppose,
for Satan's sons with beatless hearts in Luna's reign arose.