Rolling down the valley towards a molehill
Taking down lives and houses and riches
The cornfield of filth – see? I made you spill!
The bad, the worst and some witches.
They were there: those that are not of their blood
Caring for none and daring to reach
It wasn’t rain they feared, it was the flood.
May be this is how he chose to teach.
Now they knew. Well, not all of them!
The colour of blood can only be red
We have to go where we came from
Some went early while the rest are dead!