everyone knew where my brother had gone

to the screaming barn

where all the favorites were taken.


from the barn, he sent a doll

if you squeezed its heart, it sang a song

there’s a man goin’ round takin’ names

and he decides who to free and who to blame

everybody won’t be treated all the same.


drunk or sober; it didn’t matter

night after night the doll screamed

the barn is dark, damp and cold

with walls of stories never told

and touch that turns stone to gold

and touch that turns stone to gold.


the man in the smoke beckoned him forth

rubies glinted from his cloak

pied piper of the desperate

the ferrymen of souls

he rowed my brother down Phlegethon.


now every night the song fades further

so every night i take one more step

a flute in my mouth that sings of smoke

the smoke that comes from the burning barn.