On a truly vacant night, the crows gather
Upon their feast,
Every scrap of meat is swallowed, by the
Savage wing'ed beasts.
So goes the chain of life, where death
Can restore anew,
But a day may come where you must choose,
If this death for life is you.
To appease this great tormentor, a sacrifice
Must be made,
Bring about the blooming flower, and
Henceforth take a spade.
Let us sow the soil that that had once grown
So tall,
If the head of life's flower might wilt, we
Stand ready to catch its fall.
The scavengers take to flight, just the
Bones are left to age,
But until they find the looming banquet,
They soar above in their rage.
If the law was mine, I would strip
Them of their wings,
Without the heavens to call their home,
What misfortune may their future bring.
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