run, run, baba yaga, run
the humans are hunting you.
not with pitchforks and fire
but with steel and silver and guns
and you should run, run, run.
dance, baba yaga, dance
dance underneath the invisible stars
made invisible by the glare of the
electric lights which are searching for you,
searching for you and your blood.
do you know what they will do
to your house, baba yaga?
they will scrutinize and dissect
they will pull off its cloak of magic
until nothing is left but a husk of darkness.
do you know what they will do
to you, baba yaga?
they will pry you apart
and spill your secrets on lab tables
until you no longer know yourself.
be careful, baba yaga, for you know
how this game of hunting and the hunted goes
the souls of those you've devoured are out
for your skin and bones and magic
and the humans are going to win, this time.
run, baba yaga, the humans are here [ k.a ] insp. by the idea of what if baba yaga woke up in the modern world after hundreds of years of slumber, and went back to her own man-eating ways and magic? we humans would certainly hunt her down and dissect her from limb to limb. Also inspired by this piece by Tchaikovsky.
