The Crow and the Black Rose

Raised in a barbed wire thicket of black roses
Was the crow, a black crow, a dark shadow with red eyes
With his mind I am connected
His thoughts are pure evil, chaotic and hectic

The dead are restless
The dead are stirring
Heaven is on edge
When the crow starts purring

Trapped in the crow's dark fairy world
This pale imitation paradise
Surrounded by sharp things that scratch and tear
But none sharper than the crow's red eyes

Trees like twisted metal rise
At only a gleam of malicious red eyes
The black sun comes; the black sun goes,
Fueling the fire that birthed the black rose

A child claws inside her mother's womb
The child has long black hair
And leaves scratches like those inside a tomb
But her heart is as empty as air

The child is born
Her mother dies
The old cat stares though his eyes are torn
At the dolls with blood pouring from their eyes

Sitting on a tombstone
The skull-faced goblet overflows
And feeds the crow its vile red
Denied the blackened rose

And in their coffins stir the dead
Heaven averts its gaze
Leaving the crow, the child alone
The sky is just a burning haze

From the mouth the child foams
And reveals the whites of her eyes
Forever onward black crow will roam
Though he is cut and dead inside

The crow and the child are one and the same
Raised on cruel realities
Without love, without a name
They dream dark and hollow dreams
And rest in deep and empty sleep
While the nightmare shadow grows
The fate assigned by a blackened rose