The Crow Is Goth (Gothic Rock Carnival)

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The Crow Is Goth!
[Intro — dark, dramatic]
Black feathers in the morning light,
A long black coat, a wicked sight.
Combat boots and a gloomy stare —
“Oh my God! Is that goth over there?!”
[Verse 1]
They pointed at the crow and laughed,
“She's a goth!” — what nonsense, daft!
A black greatcoat, black boots so neat,
Is that really something strange to see?
She loved her coat, she loved her style,
She polished every boot for miles.
“Goth?” — she said. “Oh, what a joke!
I've always dressed like this, you folks!”
[Chorus — huge, theatrical]
THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH!
Cawed all the crazy gawkers.
THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH!
What a load of rotten mockery!
But the crow just rolled her eyes and said:
“Get off my back!”
[Verse 2]
She didn't smoke no fancy grass,
She had a different kind of class.
She'd take some little sticks from home,
And smoke them right beside her throne.
She'd pull them out from her nest upstairs,
With a wicked grin and midnight airs.
Nobody knew what those sticks were for —
But everyone smelled them from the floor.
[Bridge — slow, ominous, almost spoken]
Then the other crows got mad.
“Enough is enough! This goth is bad!”
They had a job to do that day:
Clean up all the mess and fly away.
But there was one enormous flaw...
Her nest was hanging from the third floor.
She smoked too much. She fooled around.
And suddenly—
[BREAK — everything stops]
CRASH!
[Verse 3 — faster, chaotic]
Down came the nest from the third-floor sky,
Twigs and feathers flying by!
The non-goth crows were working all night,
Cleaning up that gothic site.
“Who built this nest?” — “She did!” — “Oh no!”
“Who smoked those sticks?” — “We all know who!”
The goth crow stood there, looking proud,
While every other crow screamed loud.
[Final Chorus — massive, ridiculous gothic finale]
THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH!
Cawed all the crazy gawkers!
THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH!
Black as night and twice as awkward!
Her nest has hit the ground!
She lost her roof, she kept her boots —
AND SHE'S STILL THE DARK QUEEN OF THIS TOWN!
[Outro — whispered / theatrical]
Black coat...
Black boots...
Black feathers...
Black smoke...
“Am I a goth?”
“No.”
“I'm a crow.”
CAAAAAAW!

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The Crow Is Goth! [Intro — dark, dramatic] Black feathers in the morning light, A long black coat, a wicked sight. Combat boots and a gloomy stare — “Oh my God! Is that goth over there?!” [Verse 1] They pointed at the crow and laughed, “She's a goth!” — what nonsense, daft! A black greatcoat, black boots so neat, Is that really something strange to see? She loved her coat, she loved her style, She polished every boot for miles. “Goth?” — she said. “Oh, what a joke! I've always dressed like this, you folks!” [Chorus — huge, theatrical] THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH! Cawed all the crazy gawkers. THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH! What a load of rotten mockery! But the crow just rolled her eyes and said: “Get off my back!” [Verse 2] She didn't smoke no fancy grass, She had a different kind of class. She'd take some little sticks from home, And smoke them right beside her throne. She'd pull them out from her nest upstairs, With a wicked grin and midnight airs. Nobody knew what those sticks were for — But everyone smelled them from the floor. [Bridge — slow, ominous, almost spoken] Then the other crows got mad. “Enough is enough! This goth is bad!” They had a job to do that day: Clean up all the mess and fly away. But there was one enormous flaw... Her nest was hanging from the third floor. She smoked too much. She fooled around. And suddenly— [BREAK — everything stops] CRASH! [Verse 3 — faster, chaotic] Down came the nest from the third-floor sky, Twigs and feathers flying by! The non-goth crows were working all night, Cleaning up that gothic site. “Who built this nest?” — “She did!” — “Oh no!” “Who smoked those sticks?” — “We all know who!” The goth crow stood there, looking proud, While every other crow screamed loud. [Final Chorus — massive, ridiculous gothic finale] THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH! Cawed all the crazy gawkers! THE CROW IS GOTH! THE CROW IS GOTH! Black as night and twice as awkward! Her nest has hit the ground! She lost her roof, she kept her boots — AND SHE'S STILL THE DARK QUEEN OF THIS TOWN! [Outro — whispered / theatrical] Black coat... Black boots... Black feathers... Black smoke... “Am I a goth?” “No.” “I'm a crow.” CAAAAAAW!

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