Your life is gone 

your youth is over 

years of cheer 

reduced to this 

[bad word] mess 

on a September morn 

your blood flows by 

like a meandering stream 

bubbling 

gurgling 

brook-like 

baking in the midday sun 

hard on the outside 

soft on the inside 

(That's a nice contract) 

I saw you there 

Sioux City bound 

In a cornfield 

I saw you there 

stinking