The Crow

From Hell's dust and fire came a wizened old crow
He sat up on the telephone wire out by the crossroads
Most crows got them hues of blue but this one's black as soot
He's got a cold, black stare and a crooked beak
He ain't no good

A desperate, broken-hearted boy with a guitar comes along
Lamenting on a girl and dreaming up a song
On the road out on his own he hears a sweet and soft voice say
Something he couldn't quite understand but it took his breath away

He looked out past the crossroads
He looked out past the pole
But there was nobody else around
Just a wizened old crow

Most crows got them hues of blue but this one's black as soot
He's got a cold, black stare and a crooked beak
He ain't no good

But, the boy, he thought himself in luck as the old crow settled down
Right there on his shoulder and they headed into town