Story From Strawmouth

Burn wounds, legless dolls, houses charred and empty
Flood lights, uniforms, haul our families off in trucks
What hills are those we see so far? Those hills so high and fair
Those are the hills of the homes we left
I miss my little sister so, can't we go back and look?
Sorry your sister's gone for good
See that tip of the land she said, that is where we must walk
and there find passage out to the sea
I'm so very cold, can we not light a fire?
No, we can't light a fire, they'll see, they will come for us.
It's a long way coming down the mountain
It's a rabbit black coming down the mountain