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A GOTHIC POEM

Beyond the way lies perched a Raven,
Simply living, singing its song - Appeals to some, but not the many...
Actually, relatively hardly any.

Church Bells Chime, but priests don't know the Divine.

They call our breed the Black Sheep, and expect us to give wool.
They called me a Dark Horse, but never opened up themselves.
They never knew those books were true,
Why so many on the shelves?
Inner Dweller Deeply Delves,
Wanderers wondering to themselves...

Church Bells Chime & Chanters rhyme. Priests don't know the Divine.

Detour the primary stream - Elsewhere flows my river now.
One day it will flood your city - What a pity,
Guise so pretty, cover kitty. Bring it down: The Floodgates open. Come Cacophonies, Cascading;
Come, the Riff-Filled Symphonies, come in with the 
evening breeze and soaring melodies blowing through 
leaves of trees with ease...

Behold these signs of Holy Crimes; The Church Bells Chime & Chanters rhyme, but priests don't know the Divine.

END