Raven, the crow
Born white of sin
Born pure of pearl
Where do you go,
For your feathers to be ruffled?
Where do you go,
To learn such sweet songs?
In the throng of the clouds you've cleaned off any impurities that has caressed you fondly
Trying to turn your ruffled feathers black
Trying to burn you with shame
Where do you go,
To learn such monstrous songs?
Where do you go,
For your feathers to be perfectly groomed?
Crow, the raven
You have turned corrupt
By hiding your sins so sweetly
At least the color black is intriguing