A crow

May the stars explode, and the sun

grow red;

May my thoughts get imbodied and turn

around my bed;

Nothing will change, I will still love you.

May a bee sting without dying

for someone's king;

May the universe plummet, and may

the dumb sing;

Nothing will change, I will still love you.

 For when you'll recognize love, as you do

With God;

when your fireflies will see that I

am louzily flawed;

Nothing will change, I will still be a crow.