My Rapture occurred on a friday night.
That's when I first reaped autumns rewards.
Dying leaves left lovely reminders,
or lessons;
Vultures cannot be trusted with love.
Forced rhythms are false to the ear and
dead to sight.
They fly over the carcass, waiting to strike the wicked.
Vultures cannot be trusted with love.

One hand gives you solace.
The other gives you sin.
Ice cold autumn winds wail a song to the blue sky,
vultures cannot be trusted with love.