Red to blue, blue to gray. The dark of night never turns to day. The flowers never bloom, birds don't sing. Death is apon us on the raven's wing. As the raven flies it takes all that is well. Everything that was is now hell. We smile for the dead, morn for the living. Happiness, as you see, is not for the giving. Death will come soon for all who believe, death is apon the raven's wing.