A little crow, he came to me And asked what to do with the snow. We tried and tried to sweep it clean, But the cold, It continued to blow. And old friends have since grown To something a little less kind. The bird flew north, But as for me, I'm stuck with what he left behind: An oil slick black Dress made of words you can't take back. The feathers choke around my neck. They built me a stage on the nest that he razed. I'm breathless as I take a bow. It's consequenceless, And I should have known that by now. Consequenceless, Your cost of business. Whispers loud. Vicious and vile, they turn the crowd. The curtain call's a little too real right – Now they are rushing and pushing and begging for blood. The lights are going down. ♪ Pin sharp and violent, We plead your lips quiet We say "Be a good bird and sing." The embers in timbers, They live for December And we know the fire they'll bring. Pin sharp and violent, We plead your lips quiet We say "Be a good bird and sing." It's dying out, And I see it now: I don't have a use for the name That they've disavowed (Now they are rushing and pushing and screaming for-) I stand to my feet (I stand to my feet) And I spread my wings (And I spread my wings) And I take my crown.