thy

Thy is not them

Thy is I

Thy has expected death with all the faws

All the flaws turn to freckles and he has accepted death with them all

He has invited death for some tea and biscuits and loved the perfect voice of the song bird death once was

Oh how beautiful the feathers of gorgeous hues that once were all that she was and so the voice of an angel

Oh but now the beautiful the feathers of gorgeous hues that once were all she was have burned and so has the voice of an angel that is now smogged over

But unlike everyone I see death as the gorgeous crow that death has always been

The smoke burned everything he had but now look we have someone that sees him for what he is a beautiful song bird.