The Curse Of Being A Scarecrow

The sky is getting dark
The air is getting colder
From my spot on the dock I can see the dark clouds getting closer
The wind is playing with the water
Seaweed is floating around on top of the waves
The old carnival on the harbour seems magical
I love the way the scarecrows keeps returning to the old Ferris Wheel
It’s as they are cursed to always coming back
The carnival is mysterious
Like someone’s dead in there
Like Love itself has been brutally murdered in there
I like the smell of blood there’s always hanging in the air
And I love to walk around the swings and the rollercoaster in the night
With the moon and the stars as the only light
The smell of blood and murder is tickling in my nostrils
The freezing air is cutting it’s way through my white dress
Wind is playing with my hair
And as I sit down in the Ferris Wheel cart it hits me
I will always return to this exact spot
I am a Scarecrow