Black crow take us life and limb
Take us, take our heart, soul, and sin
And into my tender auricle skreigh your mordant dirge;
Consume the life that from these corpses you did purge.
I prithee, abolish this torment that I carry;
Take from this hell to darkness dreary.
For I am no sun nor soil nor seed
And from this heart I shall bleed.

Rest, rest now beneath my feet.
Take comfort in your scarce heat.
The grey cross erected in your name.
Blackens now, and erodes away
Beneath this stinging rain.

Oh icy claw that grips your heart,
I long for my body torn apart.
Black crow, perched in tree,
For this I beseech thee.
I am no stranger to this bloodless air.

I, in shrillness, would scream
As my lungs did rip and tear.
I stand above your sodden grave,
And shall no longer by life enslaved.
Death, death do conspire;

Transform my black, funeral heart
And wilting sadist mind into my pyre.

We hide and nurse our dilapidated
Bodies from the blistering day.
Come night we tear into our
Tender flesh in mad dismay.
"Peel away thy carnal mask.
Punish thyself in blissful blows
That sinks deep below thy bones."
We are lost in this atramentous esplanade,
In perpetual suffering for our evil, white god.

Quietous* tree,
That hath sought
Found to bleed
And from torment wrought,

Thou dost despondent stand
And thy veins doth shed
And bury in desolate land
The tears that thou hast bled.

Thine heart's own verisimilitude
Beats within thy stiff breast
And all thee hath eschewed
And thy plot avoid lest

Thy count'nance rear'd
And thy misery form'd
Within all whom thee fear'd
And their joy harm'd.

Quietous* tree,
Son of agony's lot,
From the pain within thee,
What horror hast thou begot?

How did I know that her every dart
That cut through the air
And find passage to my heart
Would close my eyes from life's stare?

Black is thy name.
Black is thy shroud.
If I were to open thee,
What shall be seen?


I can feel thy Black
Soul as I spread thy
Broken wings. I hear
Each hour chime thy


Dirge and call thy
Name. I shall spread
My shoulders' blades
And feel them rise


Against my tyrannical
Skin; as thou wouldst rise
In the charcoal heavens,
Perverting it with thy


Black flock; as The Morning Star
Rose against tyrant rule
So too shall my shoulders'
Blades against my suffocating


Skin. What shall we see if
They emancipated are, or
I, eviscerated? Shall I be
Black as thee beneath my


Flesh? My ribs, and hips,
Bones, and fingers now do
The same. My bruised flesh
Shall see not the day.

What shall we see when the
Rest of it falls away? A *****
Of bones that droningly cry,
As thou screech thy name?


I think I shall be like thee,
Black in heart and Black in
Blood. I am stillborn. I shall
No longer see the day.

In bower bright,
Young heart alight
In love and pain.
Drops of blood like rain
Fall perpetually from my heart
As I watch it break and fall apart.