Brother Crow

(More about the song coming soon.)

The lock isn't rusted — just untried.
Brother Crow hands me the key, then steps back.

[INTRO]
Brother Crow drifts in with the wind.
Feathers stir the air.
He lands where the old storms end.
His eyes leave nothing in the dark.
Miles between us
fold into a single room.

[VERSE 1]
When the little one inside tries to be invisible,
I build a brother who can hold my absence
without trying to fill it.
I close my eyes and build him
from the floor that never shook.
Brother Crow flicks the light and says:
"Now you can't disappear.”
His voice finds the knot
in my stomach.
It loosens.
We shared a womb.
We share a wound.
Fragments of me catch the light.
Fear of lack whispers
from that old place.
He adds to the thin
store of my hope.
He sees what I miss.
I borrow his eyes.

[PRE-CHORUS]
Focused thought cuts through noise.
Self‑assurance — he knows.
He loans me his until mine grows.
Brother is the new day —
warmth on my back while I'm turned away.

[CHORUS]
Brother Crow —
All is expressed in the way
he leaves the light on.
(Leaves the light on.)
Brother Crow —
the little one inside —
wants to complicate everything.
proof he'll leave.
He stays anyway.
Brother Crow —
"You belong here."
(Brother Crow.)

[VERSE 2]
Brother Crow calls
when he's making food.
“There’s enough for you.
Swing by if you want to."
I eat while it’s warm.
The little one inside reaches for more.
Brother turns up the volume
on my own knowing.
The self‑imposed prison
has a door she forgot.
Her chin quivers.
He watches my back.
He shows me how small
it all looks from the sky.
The little one inside
lets the moment fly.
Brother Crow picks up a nail.
He says:
“Build it your way.”

[PRE-CHORUS]
Focused thought cuts through noise.
Self‑assurance — he knows.
He loans me his until mine grows.
Brother is the new day —
warmth on my back while I'm turned away.

[CHORUS]
Brother Crow —
All is expressed in the way
he leaves the light on.
(Leaves the light on.)
Brother Crow —
the little one inside —
wants to complicate everything.
proof he'll leave.
He stays anyway.
Brother Crow —
"You belong here."
(Brother Crow.)

[BRIDGE]
The lock isn't rusted — just untried.
Brother Crow hands me the key, then steps back.
You'll know the door when you hear the click.
The little one inside wraps her fingers around it.
He doesn't rush me.
He waits.
(He waits.)
Brother Crow —
All is expressed in the way
he leaves the light on.
(Leaves the light on.)

[OUTRO]
Brother Crow says:
"Yesterday is a feather on the floor."
Bless the difference.
Recognition passes like current.
The dark between us holds space.
A room with no walls.
We fly by the old house.
Brother Crow keeps his eyes forward.

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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Sister Crow

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Father Crow