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.