8. RED ROBIN — Lyrics

Scroll below the lyrics to read more about this song.

Lyrics

[INTRO ]
I am warmth before thought,
the voice that says, “hope.”

“Existence is pure joy.”

All sorrows are but as shadows—
they pass when light agrees.
I arrive in the color of living blood.
I am Red Robin

[VERSE ]
Worm turns soil,
soil turns kind,
Red robin reminds:
[pause]
Hope is the morning
keeping its word.
Hope is the day
wanting you in it.
Hope is consent.
Hope is staying.
Red Robin promises:
Hope is allowed.

[CHORUS ]
Red Robin hop.
Red Robin hope.
Small steps help.
I begin again —
I belong where I am.
Ordinary hope carries me on.
Red Robin hop.
Red Robin hope.

[BRIDGE ]
Warmth is given freely.
Ordinary hope moves my wings.
place my trust in simple things.
Hope says yes.
Red Robin says:
Hope allows what’s next.

[OUTRO ]
Ordinary hope.
Red robin goes.
Ordinary hope.
Red robin goes.

About the Song

“Red Robin” is a hope song.

I’m learning how to stay with life during ordinary moments. The kind of moments that carry history, fatigue, memory, and feeling — and still ask for presence.

Red Robin carries a quieter definition of hope. Hope here lives as a knowing that more exists beyond the current situation. A felt sense that life continues to offer openings, even while standing inside something unfinished.

This understanding draws directly from The Book of the Law, especially Nuit’s declaration:

“Existence is pure joy.”

In this song, joy speaks as participation rather than excitement. Existence moves forward because it wants company. The day agrees to include you. The body agrees to arrive again.

Hope becomes consent.

Hope says yes to staying.

Hope as Presence

This song redefines hope as something smaller and steadier than optimism. Hope appears as the willingness to remain in the moment without fixing it first. The warmth that allows the next breath. The agreement to belong right where I am.

Here, hope functions as permission.

Permission to want more.
Permission to begin again.
Permission to let warmth arrive before certainty.

This framing also carries a strong echo from Abraham Hicks. Abraham often describes the present moment as already used — like “chewed bubble gum”. The current moment already happened. Attention placed here only tightens the body. Relief arrives by shifting focus toward ease.

That shift can stay simple.

Pet my cat.
Enjoy my coffee.
Watch the birds.
Notice warmth.

These small moments loosen the grip of focus and allow the body to soften back into flow. Hope grows through attention to what already feels supportive.

Warmth Before Repair

Red Robin appears as warmth before thought. Before analysis. Before explanation. The bird hops forward carrying ordinary hope — the kind that keeps the body moving through the morning.

This reflects teachings carried from Louise Hay, especially her emphasis on gentleness, affirmation, and worthiness. In her work, the body responds first to kindness. Warmth creates safety. Safety invites change.

Hope appears here as a body agreement rather than a mental strategy.

Nuit’s Influence

From Aleister Crowley, Nuit’s presence shapes the spiritual spine of this song. Nuit speaks as vast inclusion. Everything belongs inside her field. Existence itself carries joy because participation continues.

Red Robin holds that truth in a grounded way.

Hope stays ordinary.
Hope stays warm.
Hope stays close to the ground.

Placement in BYRDS

Placed after Mockingbird, this song allows vigilance to rest. Listening already sharpened awareness. Red Robin restores balance through warmth and continuity.

Crow watches.
Mockingbird listens.
Red Robin stays.

Closing

Red Robin whispers this truth gently:

Hope lives here.
Hope allows what comes next.
Hope belongs to ordinary moments.

A little red robin hops nearby, keeping watch over you. 🐦

THE BOOK OF RED ROBIN

Chapter: Of Morning and Return

  1. Attend, O living one,
     for the day has already begun its work.
     The light stands ready at the threshold,
     and the ground has turned its face toward you.

  2. The morning takes account of breath.
     It counts the weight of feet upon the soil.
     It opens its hand where bodies arrive
     and calls this mercy.

  3. Red is set upon the chest
     as a sign of belonging.
     Warmth gathers there
     and keeps its place.

  4. Hope arrives early,
     before certainty,
     before the mind completes its story.
     It moves ahead of thought
     to make the way passable.

  5. Every return is lawful.
     Every step completes itself.
     The smallest motion satisfies the hour
     and fulfills the measure of the day.

  6. The yard wakes because life stands in it.
     The fence remembers.
     The path receives its walkers
     and keeps no record of delay.

  7. The sun performs its labor faithfully.
     The earth answers with abundance.
     This exchange requires no witness
     and continues by its own will.

  8. Take your place among the ordinary,
     for it has waited.
     The common ground bears uncommon grace
     and offers it freely.

  9. The day writes its ledger in light.
     Your name appears there
     in a hand that recognizes you.
     The ink dries quickly
     and does not fade.

  10. Motion proceeds by consent.
     Breath authorizes the next moment.
     Life leans forward
     and calls this joy.

  11. Remain where warmth gathers.
     Move where ease opens.
     The hour arranges itself
     around your presence.

  12. Therefore rise.
     Therefore return.
     The day has opened
     and claims you among the living.

  13. The morning keeps my place.
     The ground receives my step.
     I arrive where I am expected.
     And the day goes on.


A closing note

I wrote this while practicing a smaller hope. Breath. Color. Step. Morning. Nothing dramatic. Everything sufficient.

Across BYRDS, each bird carries a whisper.
Red Robin’s whisper says: you belong in today.

A little crow’s on the wire, keeping watch over you.


Loui crow

This is a record of becoming.

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

I write songs for myself.

I talk through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

I follow what supports me staying here — language, ritual, gentleness, curiosity.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that the body listens to language and that focus shapes experience.

Nothing here asks belief.

I share what I am learning as I go in case anyone resonates.

I leave breadcrumbs.

Take what feeds you.

Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.

You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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7. MOCKINGBIRD — Lyrics

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