From the vantage up on high,
Sits the Crow, monitoring the traffic flow.
Suddenly an anomaly, a bullet in the abyss,
The scream of a chorus of devils in the night,
The only sound that breaks from this steel behemoth.

It's eyes close for a split second,
The behemoth's claws rip at the ground,
Tossing dirt and mud to the air.
It screams once more as fire erupts,
and the beast is engulphed.
In its death rattle, the crushing of metal,
The bending of steel, echoes around the woods.
The carcass will lie entombed around a willow.

Cold blood and hells fires send it's spirit ever after,
The crow caws out, and flies into the dawns first rays.