I found this spot behind the shed where the nettles grow and the beetles dwell
They'll look for me until I'm dead or I'm dragged back down to the depths of hell
I fit between the rusty can and the broken glass by the weather vane
They'll slither right by without a glance as they gnash their teeth and curse my name
I lay face down right in the dirt with my eyes closed tight and my chapped lips sealed
They'll spit and scream with their need to hurt as they ransack nearby farms and fields
I disappear in the dust and nails so my tortured soul floats to lands unseen
They'll cease their search when they find my trail for their spirit's caught in the in between
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