Decameron - The Strawman

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Use me if you want For the things you can't explain I'll be the strawman For another kind of season I'll sit and behold the strawman comes You feel me For hundreds of years you have helped me To be the strawman I am the strawman You give him all his senses He has none of his own But he has a heart of golden grain That was for years your pain Cut him, you will find he does not bleed Break him, you will find he does not hurt But when a fire burns you and watch the Strawman blows away Use me if you want For the things you can't explain I thought I'd be the strawman To sit and behold the strawman comes You can set up and make him Into a god if you want him to stand by A fixed and mythical strawman Man is sadly fragile At the things that he has made You burn him, he gets away He comes from seed and ripens With seeds for years to come He is only ripeness after all You feel me For hundreds of years you have needed me To be the strawman You give him all his senses A heart of golden grain Bought you ... with his soul He doesn't know you cut his hair Cut him you will find he does not bleed Break him you will find he does not hurt But when a fire has torn him and watch the Strawman blows away Use me if you want For the things you can't explain I thought I'd be the strawman To sit and behold the strawman comes
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