Post-Apocalypse Collapse

[cyborg_nation]

Ravens sing in the pines
A stern, haunting melody
Tis, for the ears, a fine wine
Drinking in the melancholy

Their songs of death grow stronger still
In the barrens, built on lies
Drunk on necrophilic will
To survey Hell with paranoid eyes

See the way the corpses swing?
The heaviest fruit on the trees...
Flock of ravens, taking wing
Lusting for luscious foods like these

Listen to the way the bodies groan
In the wind and under a scarlet moon
The ravens singing their grave tone
So, surely death will follow soon