There's a murder crows following me.
What did they see, why did they pick me,
Do they see anguish, turmoil and torment,
Or do they see innocence, joy and content,
Was it what I'd done, or was what I said,
Or are they just messing about, with my head,
Was it how I looked, or was I looking at them,
Or were they just looking for someone to condemn,
Why can't they leave me, and just fly away,
And leave me in peace for ever and a day,
There's a murder crows following me,
What did they see, why did they peck me.
© 2010
Brian J Stafford