Decaying, swaying
Feeling the beat
Fears begin as they emerge on their feet
Grass tears as the dirty hands rise
Through the damp soil, view of insides
Townsmen hide from the ghastly sight
As the pales ones rise for one last night
Jubilant and fun
Not hurting a one
Townswomen grab their babies with care
Husbands running with wind in their hair
Axes in hands to ruin it all
Never more these fears of the fall
Bodies laugh not seeing the men
Axes swing at the newly found friends
Back from the dirt from which they arrived
Never again a chance to survive.