She stands body bowed Her tears wet the stone A widow charcoal black Grief cuts to the bone Lifts her head, begs release The raven breaks the peace The raven calls Love's kiss soon turns to bile For love stays but a while Their eyes burn with hate Their voices rise - and their hearts break In battles past and to come The soon to die are sung A hymn by the soon to feed A requiem on the breeze The raven calls A tree whose black twisted limbs Seems weighed-down by all our sins Makes a fitting seat a throne As old as standing stones And the modern world won't mean a thing When mystery's web starts to spin When above the city's banal hum Calls the raven and the drum The raven calls...