I was sitting the other day, reading my paper
A day like so many before
Oh I thought about all the dreams you've dreamt
That one by one have ended
Then I saw a picture of a girl
With a wounded crow in her arms
She's running away through the woods
As fast as she possibly can
She runs with her curls fluttering
She runs on scrawny legs
She pleads and she prays and she hopes and believes
That it won't be too late
The girl is small and her hair is so fair
Oh her cheek is so flushed and red
The crow is clumsy and cawing black
In a moment it'll be completely dead
But the girl, she runs for its life
With a wounded bird in her arms
She runs towards safety and warmth
For what is right and true
Oh she runs with sparkling eyes
She runs on scrawny legs
Because she knows it's true, what her daddy said
That if there's life, it's never too late
Oh I started to tremble in anguish and distress
I shook with fear and terror
Because I knew crystal clear
That it was a picture of me that I'd seen
Because my hope is a wounded crow
And I'm a running child
Who believes there's someone who can still help me
Who believes there's someone with answers
Oh I run with a pounding heart
I run on scrawny legs
Oh I plead and I pray, though I really know
That it's already far too late