In bereft land. The Raven flies! Birth: Peep! Peep! We call. You and I look up to see: Resplendent glory, the Raven. We open our mouths to partake of the Raven's Fruit. The Raven. The Raven. And the Raven satisfies: strong flowing, deep currents, of Desire. But we bite the hand. The meal is insubstantial. We punish the raven, but she knows it not.