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She wore flowers in her hair |
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And all the town would stare |
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And all the young girls followed picking up the petals strewn everywhere |
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And when the flowers died they saw through the disguise |
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And all the townsfolk circled her |
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With prayers and tar and feathers |
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And fire |
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There's a dog loose in the woods |
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A fox tied to a tree |
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And when the farmer raises his gun |
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The bullets pass right through me |
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And everyone you know will be crawling through the snow at the four furthest corners of town where they buried my bones |
