I walk along a broken trail,
wishing my life wasn't such a fail,
my feet slowly pound to the dead mans beat,
knowing I must face defeat.

The sun is slowly dieing,
while I sit alone, silently crying.
Where I am, no one knows,
except silent magestic crows.

Flying high, in the wonders of the black sky,
looking down while I lie.
as I watch the wings spread wide,
I know I must choose to decide.

To live the rest of my long life,
or take it with my silvery knife.
One time I would have chosen to die,
but then I finaly learned how to cry.

I see an old injered crow,
watching the murder amist my sorrow.
As i watch its slowly ending life,
I finily decide to ditch my knife.

In its loss, I strive to find,
someone with a heart, as kind as mine.
I'll serch forever In this rageing storm,
thankfull of this endless swarm.