(New) Raven in the Hanging Tree

I sing my song if dread. For the poor lost souls that are dead. The wind carrying out my voice near and far. Bringing sadness across the land. And though each pebble of sand. While over the sound, a sickening crack can be found. Another body, another soul, another song to be told. The wrists will be slashed, the fear will be gone. While everybody disappears, the hanging body will still be here. Then there will only be me here. Singing a dead song. There will only be me. The Raven in the Hanging Tree.