Brother Crow

Click to Listen: Brother Crow
Loui Crow - Streaming Everywhere

(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

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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Sister Crow

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Father Crow