Corvid

A dime slips through a stitch in a woman’s pocket book
The glimmer captures eyes of a nearby crow and rook
The silver bauble eclipses silent stares
As both begin to plot to claim what’s unmistakably rightfully theirs

We amass that which we cannot bear to lose
And we kill ourselves for what we cannot use
Our human nature isn’t natural, it’s cruel
The crow, the rook, the man, the fool

The crow begins to beat his wings, the rook puffs out his chest
They circle, cawing, scouting each other for weaknesses
Talons slit each other's throats, beaks peck out their eyes
And in the stunning setting summer sun the two corvids lay down and die

And though we’re cut from the same cloth, our brother’s grace
Will rend our flesh from bone for nary but a taste
We’ve sold humanity for trust estate control
The crow, the rook, the man, the fool

Hiding wealth in foreign bank accounts
From prying eyes of future ex-wives doubt
Warming nest eggs in solitude
Conceals blood money from our leeching brood

Fill the troves with hoards we kept but can’t consume
Watch a number grow with scavengers in suits
Our human nature isn’t natural, it’s cruel
The crow, rook, the man, the fool
The crow, the rook, the dime, the damned, the doomed