Running across rocky paths
one after the other, feet returning to slumber
Two crooks chasing me for whatever reason
I don’t know what’s going on

I come across my southern home
feels so good to be safe
my family is right there waiting for me
I wonder what’s going on
There’s dead silence in the air
I look around, no one says a word
they just stand there like wax figures
I wonder what’s going on

Old man in the window
yells at me to stop running
People gathering around
I don’t know what’s going on
The crooks have finally caught up
now they just stand in the sidelines
Mother, father, sister, brother
someone tell me what’s going on

Now mother calls my name and says:
‘be a good boy now and follow the man’
I look at my father, she laughs, says
‘no, silly, not daddy, follow the man over there’
I look who she might be pointing at and see another man
ragged, distant, standing separate from my family
he begins to walk, I’ll have to follow him
Someone tell me what’s going on!

He and I walk to a tract of land
a silhouette’s been cut into the soil as if it were paper
he lifts the silhouette up, the space below is just my size
I know what I have to do, so I climb into the tomb
He folds the lid back down, and I don’t hear my screaming

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