5. Train Of Thought

Jun 27

So many years of this train.
I've been running two engines on the same track.
One pulls toward what I want.
One goes back.
(Train of thought.)

[VERSE 1]
This is my "realistic."
This is my worn-out.
The mirror shows me two faces.
One tired of waiting,
one afraid to leave,
one gripping the lever,
one gripping the brake.
Every complaint was a rail joint grinding.
Every worry, a mile marker I've passed a thousand times.
The train keeps going.
I'm the one who's stuck.

[PRE-CHORUS]
I lift my hand from the old drum.
The lever feels different today.
There's a new track.
I take it.

[CHORUS]
Train of thought.
I set down my arguments for old beliefs.
I let the "what-is-ness" rest where it is.
I just switch the track.
The mirror stops fighting me when I stop fighting back.
I'm changing tracks on this train of thought.
(Train of thought.)

[VERSE 2]
My chest is a boiler.
My heels are pistons.
The old reflection cracks like a window left open.
The train shudders. Then it steadies.
Momentum is the only thing that matters.
A slow train turns.
Ten miles an hour bends easily.
A hundred miles — the rails scream.
A fast train crashes.
I learn to feel the speed of my own engine.
Slow enough to turn.
Fast enough to forget.
I catch the early thought, before the tracks lock.
I shift the momentum before it hardens.
I choose the slower track.

[PRE-CHORUS]
I lift my hand from the old drum.
The lever feels different today.
There's a new track.
I take it.

[BRIDGE]
Just a few more seconds of a better thought —
momentum doubles.
The train shifts.
Just a few more seconds of a better thought —
the track widens.
The mirror holds.
The destination rests. The train knows.
(better. better)

[OUTRO]
The mirror watches from the window —
The landscape is changing.
I keep riding. Feeling hopeful.
(Train of thought. Train of thought.)

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

5. Train Of Thought

4. Chewed Up Bubblegum

6. Mirror, Mirror, Off The Wall

louicrow@gmail.com