Story Behind The Song

Stong imagery about life and war.

Song Description

Mid-tempo folk ballad with strong, steady drum and slightly mid-eastern rave up in the middle.

Lyrics

Crows

High in the cypress black crows gather,
making their business and circling ?round.
They rise like fans, they dive and they tumble,
shadows dancin? on the cold, cold ground.
They know their job, they cry and they rumble,
making the sun go down.

Down in the streets the women are waiting,
long black veils, you can see their eyes.
Now come the men with long wooden boxes.
The women wail, we are cut by cries.
They rise like crows, they lean and they tumble.
Now we?re gonna carry them home.

A long time ago a king at his table
took up his fork and had a surprise.
All the people said he had a terrible hunger,
twenty-four black birds baked in a pie.
Anything he called for the kitchen could bake him.
All he got was feathers and bones.