They break their minds on solid earth.
They weed their heads of fiery turf.
The burns are deeply dug and raked,
Struck out like a garden’s vampire stake.
The bodies swallowed up by soil,
Baked by the sun their blood would boil.
Tormented by the blood of passers by,
The soulless feed on dreams through an eye.

Sinking deeper in to the ground
Where silent night had lost its sound.
In the compost they are set to perish
The earth needing to embellish.
There are those who will take them all away
And feed them to the garden for another day.