Late last night, about a quarter to twelve

In the middle of an awful storm

I took fright at the terrible sight

Of a raven flying into my room

My blood ran cold, my heart stood still

As i pulled the covers over my head

A minute dragged by as i opened my eyes up

To find her at the end of my bed

Then she spoke in a devilish croak

About herself being one of a score

And i felt sick at the very idea

Of dealing with nineteen more

She said, "look out your window"

I see a skyfull, i pull a rifle on them all.

Pink sunrise in the wintry skies

All warm on the wings of a dove

She sinks and lands on the back of my hand

And sings with the voice of love...

"thoughts made flesh can be beautiful things

As i am one of the same,

Fed so well on the best of your dreams

And the beauty found within

But those black beasts that you see in the east

Are scratching on the orchard floor

At split, sweet fruits and the writhing worms

That you keep behind the straining door

Go to the cellar!

I see the beasts and they're eating

Feasting on it".

Fill my head with small white flowers

Help the sweetness heal the sour

Draw on high religious power

Free the ravens from the tower.