In your silent house I never knew it to be so tragic
Filling one's lives and tricking them with magic
Obsessing over the one who's died before
Spiked top head and measures small three-four
Crow of the Räven

Travelled from that corpse-breath stop
Refusing tight strings for enlargement top
Not listening to the one o'er far door
Deleting the hot fashion for the down-string sling chore
Crow of the Räven

No interest to venture and strive
Unprovoked-gland hungry drive
Not helping others for heat-matisaction
Taken away his one true satisfaction
Crow of the Räven

Offence taken from fistful nothing
Feelings of hatred and cream-white shunning
Following him back to soaked shore
Clothing not tantalising from before
Crow of the Räven