Have you seen the pumpkins roll
Deep in the deserted Fields?
Where nothing seems
To ever live or grow
Even when the land is tilled.

Have you heard
The birds' tunes
As they seem to sing
In the Fields where nothing lives?
Even with the gifts they bring
The silence remains still.

Have you rested
Under a weeping tree
Then found yourself awake
During the witching hour?
To hear sorrowful sobs
In the land where nothing lives
Will give you quite a chill
And a fleeting desire
To leave the restless world
That seems itself alive
Even though
Everything else there
Has died.

Have you ever taken a tour
Through your own future grave?
If you want to,
Come to the Fields
Where nothing lives or grows
To see what is in store
For you
And how you won't be saved.
Cause everyone
With the sense to know
Never ever comes here
Unless it is their time to go.
Unless it is their calling day.

The Fields are where nothing
Lives or grows
Nor anything survives
So if you find yourself
A bit too close
You may not wake up alive.