The raven it sings to me
It sings to me
A lullaby for my death
On cold ground, under tall trees
I lie there, as Autumn leaves
Winter comes, everything withers away
No life in sight, nothing but utter decay
My corpse it rots, pale as the snow
The raven leaves, as does my soul
In fetal position, November had its way with me
As Winter takes over, Autumn leaves