Straw men twist in the 

wind, smoldering to flame in

the fall (of the world) 

The crickets are still

chirping but there's a chill in

the air this morning 

In this pay-to-play 

land you gotta plunk down cash

for what they promise 

Seeds of night spring forth

evil tendrils but magic 

hides in the dawn light 

Liars' lairs once bathed 

in darkness now spotlighted 

still disguise the truth 

The high-wire hums 

as the aerialist's feet 

slip into the void 

 Relics once holy 

from a dead religion now

sit in a museum