As the crow cries.

This will not age well, and neither will I.

Waiting for the day that I just up and die.

A little too eager, my vittles too meager.

The aim of this show is to show I'm beleaguered.

The crow is my teacher, they've lent me their song.

So I always cry out when I see what's gone wrong.

But that song is too long, I run out of breath.

I run out of hope, I run towards death.

But this is the best damned life that I know.

So I keep stumbling on, if only for show.