A dime slips through a stitch in a woman’s pocket book

The glimmer captures eyes of a nearby crow and rook

The silver bauble eclipses silent stares

As both begin to plot to claim what’s unmistakably rightfully theirs

We amass that which we cannot bear to lose

And we kill ourselves for what we cannot use

Our human nature isn’t natural, it’s cruel

The crow, the rook, the man, the fool

The crow begins to beat his wings, the rook puffs out his chest

They circle, cawing, scouting each other for weaknesses

Talons slit each other's throats, beaks peck out their eyes

And in the stunning setting summer sun the two corvids lay down and die

And though we’re cut from the same cloth, our brother’s grace

Will rend our flesh from bone for nary but a taste

We’ve sold humanity for trust estate control

The crow, the rook, the man, the fool

Hiding wealth in foreign bank accounts

From prying eyes of future ex-wives doubt

Warming nest eggs in solitude

Conceals blood money from our leeching brood

Fill the troves with hoards we kept but can’t consume

Watch a number grow with scavengers in suits

Our human nature isn’t natural, it’s cruel

The crow, rook, the man, the fool

The crow, the rook, the dime, the damned, the doomed