Your youth is gone 
your life is over 
years of cheer 
reduced to this 
A crumbling mess 
on a September morn
I saw you there 
Sioux City bound 
In a cornfield 
your blood flows by 
like a meandering stream 
bubbling 
gurgling
brook-like
I saw you there 
stinking
baking in the midday sun 
hard on the outside 
soft on the inside 
(That's a nice contract)