The Findells

In the Burrow

The Findells
Greg Baker


Greg and I share a thing for Kafka. 



(by Greg Baker)


In the burrow way down below the ground

In the burrow where I am safe and warm

I dug the chambers with my hands

I struggled and was strong

A thousand tunnels, a maze of trails

A home beneath the storm

In the burrow, in the burrow.


In the burrow I spend my time alone

In the burrow I have all that I own

My enemies are multitude

They plot and they plan

Someday they may find me

I fool them all I can

In the burrow (Way way down)

In the burrow


In the burrow I hoard all of my food

In the burrow it smells of sweet perfume

Each morsel is temptation I try to resist

But then I can’t stop myself

I gorge until I’m sick.

In the burrow (way way down)

In the burrow


In the burrow my freedom is a cage

In the burrow I gladly lay in wait

The outside world is full of light

It makes me lose my head

I tell myself there’s no other way

I’ll stay here ‘til I’m dead

In the burrow (way way down)

In the burrow.