Crow

Always at the end of some grand scheme,
never rapidly approaching any damn thing.
People give advice, they're all so wise
never stopping to think maybe the high rise

is higher than you think
when solace is pondering
you're just a simple bug
soon to be squashed

underneath the boot
of gods great power
but for now you look up
always just an insect

the temperature will rise
and intentions grow thick
hearts will become weary
my convictions weigh a ton

wishing I was home
clock hands moving slow
while suspended in time
no prayer will save me

I'm just a firefly
Just a desolation row
a barrels that's run dry
a cawing crow.