This is deep, To the core.
This is what we all die for
What the grave holds in store
Knocking at my bedroom door
When the bird hits the glass of the window
In slow motion it falls to the ground
Black feathers float for a while as the wind blows
Like us, they will all fall down
Deep. To the rotten core.
Lying on the bedroom floor
And the blood begins to pour
So many things are…nevermore.
Source: Nevermore | Jake Allen Sharp