Field of Human Scarecrows

In a world of dreams These are the remains One by one they grow Traitors to each other Betrayers of the truth The looks tell the tale Of broken hopes and bones Self-inflicted by primates Ashen limbs, all twisted Lashed to sticks They stumbled and fell And now they rot forever Unable to surpass The ego and the lies The selfish schemes Land you a spot in the field Dead and displayed But flocks fail to heed it And so here they die But it’s a million deaths Again and again Suffering in the field That has no harvest