13. EMBALMER (Death)

Apr 7

Written By Loui Crow

Lyrics up. Blog coming. Check back soon.

[INTRO]

We’ve been lowering
names into soil.
Thanking the ghosts
that kept me alive.

I fold memory in linen.
Casket stays open.
Embalmer is me.

[CHORUS]

I circle the corpse of self.
Lacquer the stillness.
Embalmer spares her—
while soil prepares her.

Embalmer —
keep her familiar.
If she dissolves…
who remains?

[VERSE]

I polish the past.
Hold the version that hurts.
Comb the hair of yesterday.
Leave dirt unturned.

Ghost says:
just a little longer.
Crow says:
when you are ready,
bury her with honor.

The river keeps working
while I keep arranging.
Under the moss, silver moves.

Toll collector waits
at the crossing.
I clutch the coin.
My feet turn winter.

The ghost grows weaker.
I don’t know who I’ll be
without her.

[PRE-CHORUS]

Powder the pallor
to keep her familiar.
Keep her.
Dress her.
Lower her.
Release her.

[CHORUS]

I circle the corpse of self.
Lacquer the stillness.
Embalmer spares her—
while soil prepares her.

Embalmer —
keep her familiar.
If she dissolves…
who remains?

[BRIDGE]

I stand between
dirt and display.

Open ground.

Who remains
when the portrait fades?

Unframed.
Ghost named.

Now what?

My image dissolves.
Surrender grows green.

[CHORUS]

I circle the corpse of self.
Lacquer the stillness.
Embalmer spares her—
while soil prepares her.

Embalmer —
keep her familiar.
If she dissolves…
who remains?

[OUTRO]

Box in dirt before sunrise.
Return her to earth.

I walk forward
with my hands empty.

Death requires nothing.

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

13. EMBALMER (Death)

14. OVERMIXER (Art)

12. BRACER (Hanged Man)

louicrow@gmail.com