The Black Bird portents the gloom
As he drives home the night...
Muted tones of grey accent his shadow
Conjuring up visions of panic and fright;
As a drought of a hundred years
Where the Earth wrinkles and cracks
The Raven bodes poorly for this day
As the muted grey tones now turn to black;
Fashionably correct or understated...
The less is more philosophy-
Sophistication is borderline-ice cold-dry
As the Raven has gotten the better of me;
Lacking-oh so lacking in any warmth...
Driven to a dark chill of regret and woe
The Black Bird has shown its true colours
Ironically, telling me, what i needed to know;