Cult of Luna
And With Her Came the Birds
Night falls, silence takes a grip
Guilt I retrieved, a burning will to die
I need this to be over before I am bleeding dry

Somewhere along the highway these tracks must end
I pass a crowd on my way to the house on the hill

Dead man with pitchfork arms tells me all that he knows
Leave me here for the crows
In the Fall she came back, and with her the birds