A flock of ravens and crows
To mark my death
They flew over me
With the wind's silent breath
Oh beauty is the sky
All grey and bleak
Upon a tree's limb sits the birds of prey
The fallen angel knows I am weak
Dead and blackened
Sickened with the disease of loneliness
Withered and futile
No hope for anything joyous
In a drunken haze, tasting the poison's embrace
Bend the nail and hang the picture of life
Tear it down and reject all that it is