Текст: Blackmore's Night. Ghost Of A Rose. 3 Black Crows.

3 black crows were sitting on a fence
Watching the world pass them by
Laughing at humanity and its pretense
Wondering where next to fly...

*And they cackled in joy and dove through the air
Like the winds of a hurricaine
And they spread their wings as if to declare
"Onward , let freedom ring!"

3 black crows are sitting in a tree
Looking down on mankind
Loving how it feels to be so free
Leaving us far behind...