Crows Gown - Soul Demise

It’s black, as coal

The language of silence

The nothingness, dark as the crow’s gown

The feather of the crow falls dumb and quietly down

In the grass you are laying in

It’s black as coal

To be afraid and intrigued at the same time

To look at the moon

To catch the beams with your eyes

To protect you against the nothingness

The wind plays the song of your innocent soul

Your true self is painted on your face

It’s grown pale by the moonlight

The soft vibration of the grass

Will be reflected by your hands

A tear will show happiness and fear

A symbol of their own captivity