I learned how to fly the day I fell in love
I sprouted white wings and turned into a dove
But my dark, wicked soul is tired and graven
So I crumble to black dust, and turn into ravens

Now dozens of black birds are filling the skies
With loud cawing sounds of mad crows and magpies
And quickly the black birds turn into dark clouds
Throwing out thunder and drowning the crowds

And those clouds pour water out of their blackness
As fresh, rigid spines grow out of a cactus
And a dove tries to land, as its foot bleeds a sea
As it withers away, it turns back into me