• We came upon the broken corpse
    Wail Riding on a tin can horse
    The engine gave a mighty Roar
    The helpless rat, he was no more

    The flies had heard the call of death
    And took with them his last stale breath
    The fascination, sick but mild
    Swept across the blonde-haired Child

    In the driveway the Rat was slain
    The kiss of death to end the pain
    The tire marks were in the flesh
    Some entrails on the grass so fresh

    But on that day, we three had seen
    The rodent’s soul stuck in between
    And looking into his glassy eyes
    We understood, the end was flies

    And in a crumbling Converse box
    The creatures skin resembling pox
    We laid the tiny soul to rest
    Inside our morbid treasure chest

    The plane it came, the boys, they went
    Our futile summer had been spent
    And there beside his baseball bat
    I found the box, but not the rat.