The Crow King

The moon, stares blankly at a crimson street

The darkness shared equally by shadows

The puppet begs for mercy that won’t come

For I am no slave to my own hollows

A king no more free than the next convict

Bounded chains wrapped tightly around their necks

But my chains are not breathing to restrict

My hand will choose the next guilty prospect

Son you’re just as lost as those who follow

Time has been a fickle friend in this game

But gone he will and so will cephalo

We shall cleanse the cleansers take the reclaim

I shall not be caught for those who can hear

The crows are watching and they will be near