Sister Crow

May 4

(More about the song coming soon.)

[INTRO]
Sister is all sisters.
All who walked beside —
We share the past in bone and breath.
We are what came next.
Ground that held us both.
I am the sister who climbed by stepping sideways.
Stems grew separate.
Roots still tangled.

[CHORUS]
Ohhh…
How different things might have been —
and we sit here now.
Sister —
You’re the everyday —
The ordinary miracle.
You stay within reach.
(Sister)
My little self leans in.
(Sister. Sister)

[VERSE 1]
Little one inside, you learned to perform.
Sister claps when the mask drops.
Little one inside, you stopped asking for help.
Sister notices the quiet and helps anyway.
She is the hug, the shared blanket, the hand on my shoulder.
She sits close enough that the kid leans in.
Sister points at what gets skipped.
She puts it in my hands.
Sister shows up in the dry spots.
Patient as a seed under snow.
We both learned which doors stay closed.
Now we build our own hinges.
We kept quiet for years.
Now we make our own noise.

[PRE-CHORUS]
I see you. I’m here.
The kid doesn’t have to move.
Sister stays.
Even when it gets loud.
We wait it out.

[Mini verse]
Lonely rooms forget who lived there.
I remember.
Zinnias where we dropped what we didn’t say.
Zoned out side by side on the floor.
You stay within reach.
The little one inside feels it.
This time doesn’t end the same way.

[PRE-CHORUS]
I see you. I’m here.
The kid doesn’t have to move.
Sister stays.
Even when it gets loud.
We wait it out.

[BRIDGE]
My little self stops checking the door.
Sister stays with me.
She keeps me steady here.
I lean into her.

[OUTRO]
We shed the shape they gave us.
The girl becomes woman.
The field is ours.
We learn each other here.
Everything else is just feathers.

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

Sister Crow

Lover Crow

Brother Crow

louicrow@gmail.com