It's a sad day for the creeps and freaks,
And followers of every perversion.
Sparrow's died - the one my lady had.
Y'know, the one that pleased her to no end.
She'd go blind rather than stop looking it.
Thought it was as sweet as honey,
Knew more about it than she did about her own family.
It never, ever, left her lap,
It only dared to hop from one side to t'other
Singing its silly song solely to her.
Now it's singing in hell.
Can't hop your way out of a grave.
We rage against death,
Like that would stop it devouring us all.
The bird is gone. In neither hand nor bush.
It sucks that you died, you goddamn bird.
Because now my lady is blind with red, dripping tears.