BURN AND FADE, SILVER RIDER! Let me be your light down by the river — What is and was the way of the sun, The reckless, burning death of a salesman The day before the peaches rot — You’ll learn to fear the fireflies And the flight of cranes When us witches twist your skin Into every shape you’ve ever victimized And subject you to every torment You’ve ever permitted. Don’t mistake this for justice — No scales in the wild but those on better snakes than you — This is predation, The fields rich with the soft bastard flesh Of worms like yourself, And in this age when only flies profit truly, Me and mine will knell the long hot summer And drag your burning soul to Hell!