The Crow Lyrics and Music by Doc Watts and Mark McNutt There's a crow in a sycamore tree It's black glassy eyes They seem to follow me I can see Its mischief in disguise It's a dark form manifest It's looking for bright shiny things To feather it's nest It's got designs upon the prize From the heart of the wilderness Comes a cry of distress like fluttering wings the underbrush stirs but once you've gone too far astray the forest grows silent and you've lost your way The voice was yours All things are a given Some seem as natural And as free as you please But offer no guarantees at all Life is driven All things must perish But those that are dying to live They live best of all The crow offers silver and gold Bright flights of fancy to heights Where its wings unfold It offers perpetual truth In exchange for your soul But don't let go.... |