This field needs a reaper
The brush is broken spines
The tigers are tired
And the birds are blind
And there's nothing funny
When everything's kind
They drew your string
And now you're defined
This field needs a reaper
To cut us all a path
To trees filled with things
That make me laugh
A light by every window
A busted winded song
This field needs a reaper
Singing, "woe be gone..."
Woe be gone
Because i miss the mystery
It's what i miss the most
This field needs a reaper
And a whipping post
Woe be gone