Native To The Crows
In the cellar you call home
The sun shines through the holes
Crippled and born to never know
Your horse was stricken ill
In spite of seasons chills
Mother can we try to keep him still
Oh It's a crying shame
That you feel that way
It's a crying shame
That you feel so plain
It's a crying shame
That you feel that way
It's a crying shame
Oh yeah
In the attic you can roam
And be a native to the crows
A dying man in each and every moan
Scrappin' through the bin
Your voice is wearing thin
A fever in your yellow eyed soul
Oh It's a crying shame
That you feel that way
It's a crying shame
That you feel so plain
It's a crying shame
That you feel that way
It's a crying shame
Oh yeah
Oh oh oh oh oh oh
Your sun shines through the holes
Oh oh oh oh oh oh
Your sun shines through the holes
And it shines on me
It shines on me
It shines on me
It shines on me
Oh It's a crying shame
That you feel that way
It's a crying shame
That you feel so plain
It's a crying shame
That you feel that way
It's a crying shame
That you feel so plain
Autor(es): Trevor Parker Menear
