As most people know, owls are symbols of wisdom
As well as omens of ill tidings and lost hope
Abnormally the horned owl sits on a branch, its eyes staring, green and cold into the night sky
As the moonlight bends in a triangular prism

A gentle "hoot hoot" cuts softly into the air
Striking fear into the small rodents who would dare
To come out at night, and risk being devoured
So maybe, just maybe in the forest floor

We're those small rodents, due to all we have to endure
And the Owl is our predator, keeping us in check
Well, I've got news for you Mr. Owl, I'm not dead yet!