In the morning, I buckle my shoes like a pilgrim
And make my way to the highway
In the silhoutette of silos
I love you more than you'll ever know dear
Before I was born I could hear you
Calling my name from far away
Cry, cry, crow
In the distance, all the way from Iowa
The city glows like a beating
Heart upon the table
In the dome-light, wherever you are going
The hourglass your holding
Is filled with falling snow
Cry cry crow, The Pines