As they fly high in the sky,
You can always hear the ravens cry.
It is always a sad note to hear,
But loud enough for all to fear.
For the ravens' cry announces deaths approach,
Because it is fine for him to encroach.
To take the ones you hold dear,
His reach extends both far and near.
With the ravens' flight to lead the way,
As the darkest man walks the brightest day.
To escort the dead, that is his job,
Despite the people he must hear sob.
For without his help, they cannot cross the Styx,
But to be lost forever in the mindless mix.
Forced to roam the wasteland forevermore,
Even the mightiest heroes become nothing more.
Throughout his job death has to pray,
For without his job the dead would lose their way.
But unbeknownst to most, death has another job,
One to take away the peoples' sob.
To breathe life into the unborn child,
For after witnessing their joy he had always smiled.
He used the souls he had to take,
To reunite the families for the loved ones' sake.
But at the end of the day, when the ravens cry,
Death waits for the next one to die.
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