Fly down the old trail, make old new
Flesh of birch, bones of tin, the crow pierced you
Ten red crows with three paws flew from east Blackberry Tree
The Raven, the Spirit, Memory
Use the water soiled by crows, withdraw it from the well
And anoint your parch-ed skin to ease the swell
Perching on the tree of figs, the crumbling carrion
Hitch a ride as we guide nocturnal sun
The raven calls through the wildwood
The raven calls through the trees
The raven calls through the wildwood
The raven calls to me
A wind blows through the wildwood, o'er the late Saint's wrinkled hands
Disperse the petals where the chapel used to stand
Eyes bleached white from visions of a crucifix long worn
Turn the copper green again and move along
The raven calls through the wildwood
The raven calls through the trees
The raven calls through the wildwood
The raven calls to me