The Crow Chief
The Crow Chief
Sit a while to bask in the ambiance of a moment of song
We marked are papers with what went wrong
Can't we all see and just get along
Silence beckons the plough yet asunder
Is it any wonder we have to much time on our hands
The crow chief emmerges from the brisk of the day
A step forward to bow the knee to pray
He looks in hindsight at the ever glass nestled around his chest
Longing for a real world in need of it's untimely rest
He dances in a ring of fire yet throws off the challenge with a shrug
Out of hallow circumstance to take part in the dance
Mark the man willing to explore hence the opened door lest I implore
Shapes forms out of the sky the following of a distant passerby
He plants a seed of kindness t the heavenly god of grace
Slowly he is warned of his intrusion into the outer space
In time his seed grows to it's modest fruition delivered above
To summon the outside of nature's beckoning call
Then to heed a promise once spoken in the dark now brought to light
We make plans then break plans will it end it all depends
A beacon of hope to a world that can't cope
They bask in the debris of being social wandering wizard's
Shelter lies dormant amdst it's beckoning plough
A challenge to be set free is just a question of time
The crow chief lives to wait until the end of the line
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