The path, a barren cross
The crumbs are gone and the pie and the pie is lost
Melancholy phantoms lie on our skins
The woods and apples falling with the wind
Hear the sigh of the trees
Those who went a-eating
Never leave
And the rangers stream out of the cabins
They are the hunters, we are the rabbits
And maybe we don't want to be found
Maybe we don't want to be found
For the men, oh, we go
For the men, oh, we go
For the men, oh, we go
For the men, oh, we go
For the men, oh, we go
For the men, oh, we go
For the men, oh, we go
And the rangers stream out of the cabins
They are the hunters, we are the rabbits
And maybe we don't want to be found
Maybe we don't want you tracking us down
The rangers stream out of the cabins
Freezing their muskets, flashing their badges
But me, oh, we go
Maybe we don't want to be found
Maybe we don't want to be found