Rustic charms

Deep in the barrio where the carrion crow carry on, if ever there was light it's long gone and the darkness like a rash creeps up on your skin, where they take their teeth out and they put the trash in,  a place to be aware of in the moonlight where you dare to put on show but only in the barrio beside the hooded crow.

And deep the knife that splits the corn to sharpen razors, reap the dawn and sow the seeds of raging wolves and pimps that lead us further in, the barrio is grim, no fairy tale or pun intent just iron bent into sharp hooks and even sharper cutthroat looks from residents who fit the bill of psychos, cracks the crow if crows can crack at all.

I steer clear and always will, the barrio's a bitter pill to swallow, but unless your mouth's been opened wide how can anyone see inside, active pro and ****** crow and those who know don't know or never go to see.

Deep in the barrio where time goes fast and life is slow and death rides walls of steel
I feel affinity, a certain ****** prehensile proclivity and where the hell's divinity but sat behind the crow.