Stone The Crows

Isn't it a shame...

All I ever do is fly

With my black wings and beak

As sharp as knives.

A bad omen.

That is what they call me.

But I never killed anyone.

They do it all themselves...

All I ever do is sit and watch.

Watch them dress in black and

Cry amongst the willows in the churchyard

Whilst one of them speaks words

I cannot understand.

They only notice me when

I take my leave.

They point and scream with faces

Contorted with terror.

They refuse to point at their own.

Trusting blindly people untrustworthy.

So go ahead and blame something

That doesn't understand

What it's being blamed for.

Stone the crow, simply,

Because it's there.