Where Only Old White Crows Go

Where Only Old White Crows Go

…When I was four or five… I remember the nameless thing

That pulled on me and pushed on me

To keep me from traditions… And the rules of institutions

…I think I was 11… When a whisper called me friend

It warned me of the cage… That was in the sacred page

That was written in the closets… By false kings and profits

Created in sin… In the name of religion

…When I was almost 16… I knew the great spirit of free

Was working hard to save me… From those trying to change me

So I would be tethered by guilt… And feel like they felt

…At the age of 23… I was finally set free

When I took a mushroom ride… To the other side

Where I was delivered… On a vivid dream River

…When I was 36… I fell off the magic ship

And was baptized in sorrow… As I lived for tomorrow

Denying freedom’s magic… Refusing freedom’s music

…When I was pushing 50… I felt something pulling me

So I chose to fly again… In the heart of the whirlwind

…Now I’m 60 something… Killing the wolves of responsibility

That are desperately trying… To consume the free in me

 I hope when I’m almost gone… And it’s time to move on

 I’ll be ready to go home… To the place white crows know

I want to go… Where only old white crows go