A crow takes flight on darkest night

The bird naught but a shade

It breaks its leg

But yet it stays

With vengeance in its brain

 

No longer a little farmer boy

But a soul that has taken flesh

A walking stick in hand

Kaz Brekker will be your death

 

Not one for finery or pretty little cakes

No sacred symbol in safe

Dirty-hands will see it done

He never takes a break

 

With clever fingers and thieving mind

A new man grew inside

One who abstains not from the pleasures

But of who the pleasures flee from mind

 

No time for drink

No time for cards

No time for women in her little scarves

But take heart

There is time to steal that what isn’t ours

 

Like birds of a feather the crow calls them together

But no farther apart could they be

Thieves and brigands

They fight and they holler

Yet there is still honor among thieves

 

 

(Inspired by the book "Six of Crows"

by Leigh Bardugo)