[Verse 1]
The farmer, he watches out over his field
He harvests just what he has sown
His only interest in a greater yield
For the machines and the chemicals he owns
And each imperfection is now revealed
As the reaper's long arm rakes the rows
His yearly battle with nature is sealed
He abandons the field to the crows
[Verse 2]
Let's look for a moment at the sleek dark mimе
And the black and the blue of his wings
Hе stalks his prey with the sharpness of a military mind
And nobody ever says he sings
An effigy is made to scare him away
Dressed up all in poverty's clothes
Now only scares the children at play
We abandon the field to the crows
[Verse 3]
Now the rook, he travels a straight and narrow path
He is neither the pawn nor the king
He fights out of sight with a terrible wrath
And then sleeps where the church bells ring
When the machines are so large that no one's in charge
And the young men know what they know
Then all is in range for the brief exchange
We abandon the field to the crows
The Crows was written by Jack Hardy.