Swish swish swish goes the scythe as the blade slices through the harvest, a harvest so carefully planted in season. Swish swish as the harvester strides forward through the fields, cutting down the two-legged stalks. See how the stalks try to run, but the harvester is intent on his purpose, bringing in the fruits of his labor, severing them, transitioning them from the quick to the dead. Swish swish. This will be a bountiful harvest.