Old Crow

A Deep write

　

Old crow

Tired and lazy' against the day

Dark skies

Lost in blacks and whites and grays

Howling north wind

Sure takes a man's fight away

　

Wastelands,

A dreamer's home on his best day

Hard rain

Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade

And talks cheap,

But for the words of time they'll ave the last say

Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say

　

And the harvest is in, it wasn't much

May I have enough to get by

The baskets were light, not a muscle ached

And somehow I feel I'm going to die

The winter is coming and the signs say hard

I've never seen such a haunting sky

　

For on the mountains, frost in the wind

And somehow I feel I'm going to die

Full moon

Lonely above the old oak tree line

Old crow

Hanging empty in the black sky

And a nighthawk

Circles her in silence as she flies

Old crow, all alone she flies