I am a raven, flying high above this open canyon.
And you; you are a dove, awaiting your endearing companion.

It's easy to see that there's a fire that burns in your heart,
But what can I, the raven, do to just have a single part?

I'll scour near or far away land to bring you stalks of heather.
I'll keep you warm at night, with each of my darkened feathers.

But you wouldn't accept it.

Sadly, it's none of these features of which I speak
Or any of the treasures around this mountain peak.

Because anything I can give you, from below or from above
Just emphasizes that I am too broken for your love

And no matter how hard I try, when push comes to shove,
This sickly raven doesn't deserve the heavenly dove.