A death we left in the path,
One, before.
The escape we’ve made from our past,
Two, previous that.
Once we reach the next town- we’re to be wed,
Three before fled.
Speak of son or daughter, a child to be born,
During pregnancy, we have four.
Our child’s time to be received,
Till then, five will soar.
The farm we tend is hit with famine,
Six foretold.
My wife hath past and to heaven, she went,
There were seven before she was spent.
Now I lay on my deathbed,
Eight loom overhead.
Lucifer calls to me,
Nine I did see.
My soul, I did sell,
Ten did tell.
A secret my children will take to their grave,
Eleven will follow, their future they pave.
Crows
Crows
They all warned
But we paid no mind to the storms
And thunder
                                           that surrounded our plunder.