CAMELOT FANTASIES

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CROW FLIES

As the crow flies, guarding our deathly paths.
From the roads, you hear no cries.
Feeling  ov, the Reapers' wraths.
As the crow passes, heads held up with sighs.
The crow flies, searching for it's roads.
Thru, the wraths ov hell.
Our Magic spells, is the crow.
Paranoia, always has your back.
Erasing, all ov your tracks.
As our souls, linger along the roads.
Thru the air, our Harleys roar.