Hollow Branches - Scythe of Autumn

The orchard hangs heavy with rot, Apples split open, black with flies. Crows stitch the sky with wings of omen, Fields whisper with the bones of harvest. Cold winds scrape my lungs, Branches claw the sky. The sun dies red, Ravens carve out the light. Rot with me beneath the leaves, Bury your breath in the throat of trees. Ash will crown the autumn sky, Every blossom was born to die. The scarecrow grins with a mouth of ash, Hollow eyes nailed to the dusk. Smoke seeps from the wounds of the earth, Pumpkins sag with mold and worms. Children of frost, the wind-borne dead, Dance in circles of dying stalks. The air splits with rust, Leaves crack like bones, The trees bleed gold, What once was life, Decomposes beneath the fallen. Rot with me beneath the leaves, Bury your breath in the throat of trees. Ash will crown the autumn sky, Every blossom was born to die. Leaves fall like tongues torn out, Branches writhe like broken limbs. I am the fire that eats the grain, I am the storm that strips the trees, I am the crow with a crown of teeth, I am the scythe of autumn’s grief. Rot with me beneath the leaves, Bury your breath in the throat of trees. Ash will crown the autumn sky, Every blossom was born to die. Ash will crown the autumn sky, Every blossom was born to die.