Cobwebs, corpses, crypts and graves,

These are the times the days be saved.

Fearful paranoia buried below;

Life still breathing although quite shallow.

Trapped behind earth and rock,

Waiting for the ticking clock

To toll the end of light.

13…

13…

Unlucky through and true.

Unlucky and ending of much for you.

Life now tainted in the deadest hues of blue…

Above you now the pendulum swings,

And your troubled raven sadly sings.