Soft with crows you sumptuous walk,
stroll dark roads entombed in night.
Stolen souls somnolent ceaseless talk,
black tales wove with cunning sight.
Words crack fractured tears of frost,
bare starved branches silent sway.
Stark leaves by cruel winds tossed,
beneath the heavens clouded grey.
Blood lies crimsoned on the slate,
dead men stirred sup second life.
Servants sweep from Satan's gate,
summoned to your slaking knife.
So the four ride upon your breath
PESTILENCE WAR FAMINE DEATH