2. On My Knees

Jul 7

She didn't say no.
She was asking for it.
She's a tease.
What was she wearing?

[VERSE 1]
They think "no" means keep trying.
I say "yes" like it's surviving.
They think fear is foreplay.
I know they'll do it anyway.
They call me a tease.
And I freeze.
On my knees, just praying it'll pass—
Begging, please—make it fast.
I think obedience proves I'm love.
I wear submission like a glove.
I laugh, hoping it'll pacify it.
They just like me better quiet.
I flinch, and they keep going.
Sewing me shut while the ache keeps growing.
How do you say no,
when you're scared of every man you know?

[CHORUS]
On my knees, I'm a monster with a pretty mouth.
Love me please, a martyr with perfect posture.
On my knees, no armor and I won't lash out.
Love me please, I'm the offer like a lost daughter.
On my knees, lips stay gridlocked on a city route.
Love me please, haunted mirror where the gasp comes loud.
I wasn't kneeling.
I was waiting to rise.

[VERSE 2]
"No" makes them angry.
So I put them first, never me.
I soften my tone when I feel the snap.
Say "sorry" like armor, like it's part of the trap.
They say I'm dramatic—"It's just how guys are."
I laugh it off, then cry in the car.
They praise the chase while I brace my skin.
I give fake smiles while I cave in.
They say "Don't ruin the mood." So I play along.
Bite my tongue so he still feels strong.
I learned to leave without the scream.
I float above while he rewrites me.
I tuck my pain in a purse like my keys.
I smooth my voice into something he needs.
They call it love. I call it fear.
I call it survival when I disappear.

[BRIDGE]
They mistook my hunger for weakness.
But I was studying the choir.
They mistook my survival for service.
But I was gathering the fire.
On my knees—they built their throne.
On my knees—I built new doors.
On my knees—I rose alone.
On my knees—but I was never theirs.

[OUTRO]
Knees on the ground, eyes on the sky.
I wasn't kneeling.
I was waiting to rise.

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

2. On My Knees

1. Gorgeous

3. Remember, I Am Him

louicrow@gmail.com