Crow کے بول

A murderous flock, beating the wind They don't need any friends They're up to their necks in them Say I was a lonely gust of wind Could I redirect them? I'd make a city of this ghost town Even let the crows come Rest their necks and nest their young Even let the crows come Rest their necks and nest their young Troubles are gone on the horizon So I stick a finger in Just to test the sweetness Say you gave all of your troubles To someone deserving? They'd make a city of this ghost town Even let the crows come Rest their necks and nest their young Even let the crows come Rest their necks and nest their young Rest their necks and nest their young