It was me and it was autumn, it was early in the morn,
I stumbled on a fallen angel in the corn. In the corn.
Covered in cream and her flirtation, lying hidden in the rows
making me scream, Mother Nature, you’re covered and cold. Covered and cold.
The fallen angel was a baby, asked me what’s gonna happen to him.
I said, You’ll stay here if you’re lucky or you’ll go back in. You’ll go back in.
He said, If I stay will you dig me hole? Will I dig you a hole? I said, I will.
Today must be holy. I got plenty of time to kill. Plenty of time to kill.
With his hardly open eyes he then spoke without a tongue.
He said, Then bury me, bury me, bury me young. Bury me young.
So I sank down to my knees and I opened up the ground
for that little fallen angel I had found. I had found.
And with dirt under my nails and by the trails he pressed,
in the corn, in the mornin’, I confessed. I confessed.
Now all is said and done. All is laid to rest.