I write this ballad
whilst a crow is atop my roof
it's pitter-patterings disturb my peace
whilst my hands scribble away
I write this ballad
for, the symbol of death is near
a crow is now at my doorstep
with it's eerie pitter-patterings
Tonight I write this ballad
an epiphany
from a now distant
and a love so pure
Tonight I write this ballad
a gravely masterpiece
an opus filled with extreme desolation
for death ever be so close
I write this ballad
for the stone makers,
carving my name on my gravestone
as death ever be so close
I write this ballad
for eyes so beautiful
from a soul so dark
an enigmatic complement
I write this ballad
for eyes so beautiful
and a soul so empty
a sober reflection
I write this ballad
for your beautiful eyes
from my abject misery,
proof of my love
I write this ballad
for eyes so beautiful
with hopes now dead,
for you, my precious
I write this ballad
whilst death creeps in
in form of a serpent
while I scribble away
This ballad is surely my last
my final rendition
in the land of mortals
for the serpent has dug it's fangs
and has left a venom in me
whilst I hurriedly scribble away
alas the murder of crows
are departing,
ominous,
the message has been delivered
from the dark messengers of doom,
the pitter-patterings,
I hear them no more
my hands I feel them no more,
at last the tale is t-o-l-d
_
for eyes so beautiful
