Verse 1
Her art adorns the wall, the owl in the tree.
Chosen by the Master, so wise was he.
The owl to him meant wisdom, but to scripture desolation
But Bible was not his major, rather music was his passion
For the prophets had spoken, in voices of old,
“The owl marks the wasteland, the ruin, the cold.
It dwells in desolation, in places undone,
It sings not of wisdom, but judgment begun.”
Chorus
Oh, the owl kept its silence,
The raven declared:
“This temple you’ve built is hollow, ensnared.
You thought you chose wisely, but blind was your eye—
The owl is of ruins where the living things die.”
Verse 2
The white peacock shimmered, so pure, so divine,
A symbol of glory, of life’s holy sign.
But the Master refused it, he lifted the night,
He enthroned the owl, and he crowned it as light.
Yet the feathers grew ragged, the artwork grew thin,
Like the faithful who faltered, worn hollow within.
Her art began peeling, the wall turned to bone,
Till the symbol of ruin was left there alone.
Chorus
Oh, the owl kept its silence,
The raven declared:
“This temple you’ve built is hollow, ensnared.
You thought you chose wisely, but blind was your eye—
The owl is of ruins where the living things die.”
Bridge
From Isaiah to Jeremiah, the words still resound:
“The owl in the wasteland, where no life is found.
Among shattered cities, abandoned in fear,
A creature of judgment, not wisdom, is here.”
The Master had faltered, though he claimed to be wise,
He promoted the darkness, mistook it for skies.
The raven kept crying, “The truth will be shown—
You chose, and you chose poorly… the ruin is your throne.”
Final Chorus
Oh, the owl kept its silence,
The raven declared:
“This kingdom has fallen, its altar laid bare.
The peacock of purity was cast to the side,
And the Master’s great wisdom was nothing but pride.”
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