The crow was warning me that all wouldn't be well.
My mind reminded me it's normal for life to be hell.
The smell is sickening, nothing is quickening.
So I overtake the beast while my blood is thickening.
The story bends, my life extends, I don't depend on much anymore.
Gloomy rooms but not the lighter's spark or even how fast the Henny pours.
I'm plenty poor, but rich in spirit.
My spirit animal is a DND cleric.
Obsessed with the healing, my mind's still reeling.
Taking away the drugs couldn't take away my feelings.
Couldn't stop my writing, couldn't stop my lightning.
This son of Thor will never stop fighting. 
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