The Smallest Word in God’s Mouth (Yod) — Lyrics From Upcoming FVNERAL Album
We’re between arcs in the FVNERAL rite—
Gate I is closing: Yod
Album: FVNERAL
Artist: Loui Crow
Streaming: All platforms
📱 @louicrow on TikTok / FB / YouTube / IG
🖤 ABOUT THE SONG — The Smallest Word in God’s Mouth (Yod)
(keep scrolling for lyrics)
This is the interruption track—the first Gate.
After four ghosts, we stop the eulogy parade and name the pattern so the mask can’t hide in poetry.
Plain talk (for new folks):
Yod is a tiny spark (י). In Hebrew it’s the smallest letter, the seed every other letter grows from. In this album it’s the first incision. It’s the moment the witness stops watching and intervenes. Think match-strike. Breath before confession. Pointing finger that says, “There.”
So far, we’ve met:
The Manipulator (speech as control)
The Escapist (silence as disappearance)
The Smotherer (care as control)
The Commander (order as armor)
Yod steps in to say:
I am the act of naming itself. I call what you’re doing what it is.
I light the wound so we stop guessing in the dark.
The three filters of Yod (my magickal study made simple)
Yod asks three fast questions before any move:
Alignment: Would you still do it if nobody knew?
Necessity: Does it remove confusion or add theater?
Economy: Is it the smallest sufficient move?
If it fails any filter, it’s probably adrenaline, not Will. Yod trims the excess. Tiny word, clean cut.
Crow law: everything unlived is fair game.
Crow meaning: Crows scavenge. If it’s unclaimed, they eat it. In Crow cosmology, the parts of your life you never lived—anger, art, desire, voice—turn into open sky. The murder (the flock: shadows, ghosts, projections) will circle it until someone claims it. Crow eats to recycle. Unlived becomes compost for the next rite.
Psych translation: What you don’t embody becomes symptoms, addictions, projections. If you don’t live your power, your trauma will. Unused energy gets used by something.
Magick layer: Unused Will leaks. Energy unexpressed gets eaten by chaos. Stay sovereign by living what’s yours—act it, speak it, move it. Otherwise your unlived energy becomes public domain. Spirits, systems, strangers: they’ll play with it.
Mercy + warning in one:
Live your life or it gets scavenged.
“Murder’s just group therapy for birds with breadcrumbs.” (explained)
Surface joke: A murder gathers wherever there’s food, noise, or drama. They show up, scream about what they found, then eat. Birds with breadcrumbs.
Underneath: A murder is how grief processes in public. Each bird brings a scrap of pain, a breadcrumb of memory. They circle, shout, share, and pick the scene clean. That’s therapy in crow-terms: make noise until what’s dead stops smelling.
For FVNERAL: The murder = community exorcism. Breadcrumbs = leftover truths. Group therapy = the rite. Everyone listening is a bird; each ghost leaves crumbs; we gather, witness, pick the bones so nothing festers.
Psych layer: Healing isn’t solo. It’s messy, loud, communal. The crows scream so you don’t implode alone.
Crow translations:
“Every loud bird’s a therapist with a beak.”
“We pick the past apart so no one has to rot in it.”
🔮 MYTH MAP INSIDE THE SONG (YOD within YHVH)
YHVH is four gates we’ll walk through across the album.
Each gate interrupts the ghosts like a real ritual:
Yod — The Name (Fire) → Incision / Spark / Calling
Ignite truth; cut illusion; light the wound. ← You are here.Heh — The Eulogy (Water) → Breath / Grief / Witness
Wash what died; honor the ghost.Vav — The Mirror (Air) → Nail / Integration / Body
Bind spirit to body; reconcile opposites.Heh final — The Echo (Earth) → Seal / Stillness / World
Let the new form settle; live it.
We’ll mark a Gate track after each stretch of ghosts so listeners cross thresholds in real time, not just at the end. This turns the album from “twenty-two tarot portraits” into a rite you walk.
Yod psychology: recognition shock.
The nervous system flinches and exhales. Somatic tells: heat up the spine, pinpricks in fingers, sharp inhale before the word lands.
Short mantra for the body: “Tongue is the scalpel.”
🕯️ ABOUT THE ALBUM — FVNERAL
🖤 This is my tarot study. My autopsy of survival.
FVNERAL isn’t healing—it’s replacement.
Ghosts built from 22 Major Arcana (reversed), each a false self I had to exhume.
The mission stays: Name the ghost. Witness the symptom. Write the eulogy. Seal the gate.
A ghost is not your mother or your ex.
The ghost is what you became to survive them.
Each track is a sealed chapter, a ghost released to ash.
When all 22 are buried and the 4 Gates walked, what remains is Function—breath without vigilance, love without armor, motion without mask.
Where we are now: We’ve closed the first pillar of ghosts (speech, silence, care, control).
Crow carries the rite forward.
Each Gate cuts deeper:
Yod – The Name ignites incision.
Heh – The Eulogy washes what’s dead.
Vav – The Mirror binds truth to flesh.
Heh Final – The Echo seals the grave.
When the fourth Gate closes, Function returns: breath without defense, movement without mask.
🗣️ CROW AFFIRMATION
“Truth got a beak, not a tongue for pity.
I trade why me? … for watch me.”
🎵 LYRICS — The Smallest Word in God’s Mouth (YOD)
[Intro]
The Funeral continues.
I’m the smallest word in God’s mouth,
said in dark when light ran out.
Yod.
There is no courage in waiting.
Do what must be done—no second guessing.
Every ghost behind wants its job back.
Return to motion—don’t crawl back to lack.
[Verse 1]
Ash floats like it forgot how to die.
Funeral’s mid-wing—not over tonight.
First four ghosts buried, fifth lights the torch.
Crows take perch.
Murder’s group therapy—birds with breadcrumbs.
Beak to the wound, we eat the story.
Everything starts where Will cuts through—
move your hand, the world moves too.
Scripture written by a trickster.
Say what hurts out loud.
That’s how you move through the ritual.
They think I’m tiny. I think I’m enough.
Crow laughs—“Point size love.”
One spark starts the rest of us.
Funeral moves when somebody will.
Live life, or the wound fills.
[Pre-Chorus]
What I don’t live rots between.
Hold truth hostage, body tells me.
Smallest word in God’s mouth—
that’s how Yod lives in the lips.
Truth got a beak, not a tongue for pity.
I trade why me? … for why not me?
[Chorus]
Crow said, let there be Yod.
Murmur in the murder—we feast what’s owed.
Grief made communal, truth made edible.
Crow said, Don’t look—
be the gate.
Smallest word in God’s mouth...
Yod.
[Verse 2]
Beak at the gate—let me through.
I was the watcher, now I’m the wound.
Aim for God, grab a mirror—
every listener a pallbearer.
Smallest word in God’s mouth,
spark in the throat of funeral crowd.
Lust of result makes the magick sick.
Black light over the crime of self.
Grip too long—lock the wing.
When I release, fire gets wise,
finds its own wind, makes its own rise.
Will that feeds ego eats its own hand.
Would you still do it if nobody knew?
Is it the smallest sufficient move?
Micro-decision, precision within—
Yod’s the one who could.
Spark is me.
[Pre-Chorus]
Tremor in wrist, migraine message.
I trade what if for what is.
Smallest word in God’s mouth—
that’s how Yod lives in the lips.
Truth got a beak, not a tongue for pity.
I trade why me? … for watch me.
[Chorus]
Crow said, let there be Yod.
Murmur in the murder—we feast what’s owed.
Grief made communal, truth made edible.
Crow said, Don’t look—
be the gate.
Smallest word in God’s mouth...
Yod.
[Bridge]
Let wound decide which side survives.
Funeral’s work is how we stay alive.
Fire spoke—soft but loud.
Smallest word in God’s mouth:
Yod.
No more should, that shackle of doubt.
Treasure pressure, trust combustion.
The gate is sealed—
in Crow we trust.
[Final Chorus]
Crow said, let there be Yod.
Murmur in the murder—we feast what’s owed.
Grief made communal, truth made edible.
Crow said, Don’t look—
be the gate.
Smallest word in God’s mouth...
Yod.
[Outro ]
So it is said, so it is done.
This is the closing of Yod.
Crow wipes beak,
ash leaves its tongue,
and says—
“Funeral’s moving.
Leave the light on.”
If you made it this far reading, thank you.
🪶 CROW BLESSING
May the smallest true word find you fast.
May the cut be clean and the breath be kind.
May everything unlived come home, not hunt you.
Appendix for newcomers
Ghosts: not people; survival costumes. We honor them and bury them.
Gate tracks (YHVH): four thresholds that reset the rite: Name → Eulogy → Mirror → Echo.
Chaos magick vibe: intent first, theater last. If it doesn’t clear confusion, it’s just a cape.
Crow law (remember): Live your life or it gets scavenged.
Murder/breadcrumbs: healing is communal; we pick the past clean so it can’t rot us.
YOD opens the door to the next act. Next song: GATEKEEPER (The Hierophant).
Break the chain. Bless the ashes.
