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