the sweet singing crow sends me to sleep.
He dances on my grave and tramples my heart
till my soul is dead, my body his to keep,
tears of silver, tears of gold
sweetly singing my tears run cold.
I will a puppet be to his cold empty hand
twisting, wringing, sucking dry till I cant stand.
Pain, so loud and shouting and screaming,
till morning bitter dove's song wakes me from my dreaming.
Why does life hate me???
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