Scarecrow

Skillet builds this song around the image of a scarecrow — stuffed with straw, propped on a post in dirty clothes, useful only for standing still and frightening things away. The figure is paralyzed by mixed motives: safe enough not to let go, scared enough not to release. When the wind finally tears into him, it's not a comfort but a rending, and the repeated plea is for something the scarecrow lacks — a brain to know God, a heart to love God, a life to serve God. The third verse shifts the picture: this scarecrow hangs on a post "just next to Yours," placing the singer beside Christ on the cross, wanting to curse and spit yet weeping at mercy. That juxtaposition gives the song its weight — the request isn't for self-improvement but for resurrection from a lifeless form. The chorus repeats until it becomes a litany, each pass swapping the requested organ: mind, then heart, then whole life. It's a prayer for animation, for the straw to become flesh.