Mean are the winds that tear at the palms A tiny baby is crying then calms And curses ring out instead of the psalms I don't know
And black are the sounds dragged from the trains They leave a trail of rust in the rains Great Lakes are spilling across the Great Plains They swallow up everything
Oh no, oh no Board up the windows and shoot at the crows And lay every might thing low
Well I didn't know that day that I fell In Terre Haute at the Paris Hotel Where I lost something that I'd never sell I let go
Now all that I see keeps me afraid I count the years by the marks that they made And watch the sun from a circle of shade That swallows up everything
Oh no, oh no Board up the windows and shoot at the crows