11. Crow On The Wire — Lyrics

Crow says, “Turn the hinge…
walk back in.”

Listen To: Crow On The Wire
Loui Crow - Streaming Everywhere

(keep scrolling to read more about the song)

Lyrics

[intro]
Crow on the wire…
watching the part of me I keep quiet.
crow on the wire

[Hook]
Crow says move,
the dark parts agree—
She sees through me…
knows the places I hide—
waits on the wire

[Verse]
Crow braids light where dark flees—
Her caw pulls what hides me—
She hears my voice before it goes small,
holds my name like stone when I fall.

Name the pain, or she will.
…name the pain, or it rots ill

Follow the feather, not fear.
Crow names truth the coward won’t hear
bright eye like a keyhole gleam—
she spots the ache in my sleepy dream.

Crow says, “Turn the hinge…
walk back in.”

[Hook]
Crow says move,
the dark parts agree—
She sees through me…
knows the places I hide—
waits on the wire

[outro]
…waits on the wire till I let her in.

About the Song

Crow on the Wire arrived during a very specific moment: the seconds before I stop lying to myself. Not a dramatic breakthrough. Not a collapse. Just a quiet internal click where something honest becomes unavoidable.

I wrote this while noticing how often I already know what’s true — and how often I wait before acting on it.

What I notice while writing it

There’s a moment when truth shows up early, before the body feels ready to live it. My system responds by shrinking: voice lowers, jokes appear, attention slides sideways. This song sits right inside that moment.

The wire feels like a thin line of clarity. Crow perches there and waits. She never pushes. She just stays visible.

Healing shows up as a small turn. A re-entry. A willingness to walk back into myself without theatrics.

Undercurrents and teachers I carry here

Abraham Hicks echoes in the idea that resistance creates friction and clarity arrives when alignment catches up with knowing.

Louise Hay lives in the gentle permission to name what’s present without judgment.

Aleister Crowley shows up through the concept of will as honest movement — the choice to live from what already feels true. Following my instincts and being honest with myself.

These influences guide me while I learn.

Where this sits in BYRDS

If this track lands, it might serve as a reminder: clarity often arrives before courage. Waiting can be wise. Moving can be gentle.

Crow stays on the wire until you’re ready. Keeping watch over you. 🐦‍⬛

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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