The scarecrow tells his silent story
while hanging on a post
He warns of passing season’s gone
summer's waning ghost

He watches as the colors change
and never makes a sound
As cooler nights set in to stay
and leaves fall to the ground

As silent as the grave is he
while winter his life drain
Until once more next year he’ll be
in springtime born again

Don’t mourn the scarecrow passed away
his story filled with strife
For as the passing seasons tell
without death there is no life