Cinder block by an old fence post Pieces of a scarecrow lying in the road Weeping on the avenue is all I heard She wasn't back in time to find she wasn't there at all Wenonah's on her way back home It's a funeral every goddamn day Singing in a strait jacket at the wrong gate Burying the hatchet was the only way To pay back your mortician before he changed his mind again Wenonah turns away Wenonah turns away from home Wenonah's on her way back home She never got away Someone's orchestrating this Counting down but you don't know why A front row seat with a broken eye Visions of a lit fuse circling the night She's spilling out the side to anyone at all She's swearing at the sky