The morning hours I labored.
Till' came the lonely day bird.
Grief the feathers upon his wings,
Sorrow in the song he sings.
Air of dread tis' what aides his flight.
Seething cloud of despair and death tis' his evermore plight.
Desolate eyes of ice and steel fill to the brim with watery wheel.
Talons fierce, heart once strong.
Is bold and chivalrous for no more long.
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