a classic rock poem by jake kilroy.
Bury me under the scarecrow,
a lofty tombstone to serve a purpose,
able to still spend a sunny afternoon well;
plenty of corn, plenty of water,
plenty of kids to lay around barefoot;
getting high every day,
getting drunk every night;
their cars parked off the dirt road,
their fingers finding faith in maps,
their hearts ignoring any truth,
their souls restless and ruthless;
all with a stereo that plays psychedelic,
all with a smile that tastes psychedelic,
and me, just a scarecrow, always part of the gang.