in came scythes to sheave into bundles, every chance mocked
and death enjoys gawking at our shock
we could have, so easily taken from the train there, the bus over
together we could have done it

the bus rode over a **** and it continued to the wood's end
it's there where your fire's burning huge beacons
it's some work still to find you, hiding in that forest
we could have, we could have.