The Crop

The Crop
My master is angry with me
I’m sorry
My master berates me
No apologies escape
Will my master ever be happy?
Will they ever be satisfied?
No time to worry
There is fresh crop to pick

My master is angry with me
Its winter again who is there to blame?
I’ll wait for a passing
Season

Spring again and what to show
Spring again a harder blow
Rejuvenation but its bloody

I have nothing to lose
I have nothing to lose
I wish to speak with conviction
Of convicted peoples and of my beautiful brother and sister
Is there a crucifixion on today?
I seemed to have lost touch
With the daily news

Winter again and my master is happy
I’ve reaped well the seeds were always sown
He will be happy soon
I just have to bow, one last formal bow
It’s a simple gesture of gratitude

I have nothing to lose, I have nothing to lose
The Crop leaves and dies upon these fields
My eyes are streaked with blood and tears and spill upon my fields
Mine to own and always to sow and reap

The reaper has become the rapist
But I suppose I have nothing to lose