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makeshiftly stuck on a crooked pale

placed in the cornfield ´round devil-hill

the wind plays with hair made of leaves

man of straw

insects crawling deep inside his head

his face, protected by the brim of a hat

a silhouette like Christ, nailed to the cross

man of straw

are you alive?

old Gabriel, the lonely one

some people said, he had a soul

he moved, I swear I´m not a paranoid

what can I hear in the early light

wind in the trees or the air he breathes?

man of straw

last time I saw him was all hallows eve

reduced to ashes in the darkest night

they say, old Gabriel left devil-hill

on his own

alive

old Gabriel, I do believe

he learned to walk, he read my thoughts