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Scarecrow
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An impresssionistic folk rocker with a synth-driven instrumental.
folk rock humor filk pubsal zieger
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Artist picture
Folk music for postmoderns
I am what you might call a musical generalist. I listen to pretty much everything and I compose in pretty much any style, though I concentrate mainly on folk, folk-rock, rock, synth-pop, alternative, comedy, musical theatre, jazz, new-age, film music, avant-garde, and the occasional lullaby (why sing your kid to sleep with "Rock-a-bye Baby" when you can can create something personalized?). I've done most of my professional (i.e. paid) work in the theatre, where I've been musical director for dozens of productions. I was also musical director of Mental Floss, the legendary Miami improv group, for over 500 performances; I recently did a stint with Laughing Gas, which rose from the ashes of Mental Floss 11 years ago to become the longest running improv group in South Florida. As a singer-songwriter, I've concentrated most of my energy on my signature style of synth-driven folk-rock (sort of Indigo Girls meets Vangelis). I'm also something of a minor celebrity in the world of Filk (folk music for science fiction fans), where I am proud to be the object of the worlds smallest international fan base.
Song Info
Genre
Rock Folk Rock
Charts
Peak #754
Peak in subgenre #38
Author
Darren Zieger
Rights
1997
Uploaded
June 09, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.8 MB 128 kbps 5:16
Story behind the song
I'm not entirely sure what it's about, but "the living haunt the dead" is one of my favorite lines I've ever written, whatever it means.
Lyrics
Yellow sky on the dustroads Looking out on the insect haze Who will sing for the scarecrow Dry and heavy with the days The days turn our skin to leather The nights turn our hair to straw And I am like the scarecrow I can't stand up off of my cross But a scarecrow has no bones To break under the strain He don't mind being crucified Or hung out in the rain Scarecrow, scarecrow How my hands have bled Scarecrow, scarecrow The colors fade My life runs down The living haunt the dead Fireclouds in the morning Looking down on the silent streams Who will sing for the sleeping Who will pull them from their dreams The dreams never quite remembered The fears never quite released And I am like the scarecrow Tempted with a beggar's feast But a scarecrow has no soul To fear the killing flame He don't mind being crucified He cannot feel the pain Scarecrow, scarecrow How my hands have bled Scarecrow, scarecrow The colors fade My life runs down The living haunt the dead Scarecrow, scarecrow How my hand have bled Scarecrow, scarecrow The colors fade My life runs down The living haunt the dead The colors fade My life runs down The living The living haunt the dead
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