At a Muskox horn jewelry making class
a man with a Tribe Called Red hoodie said
Storms in the North mean something ain't right
He was born, raised and stayed in Yellowknife

Certified to write with no work in the East
I moved to the North West Territories
The town was brown and it thundered for a week
and the ravens are mocking me

The ravens are mocking me, the ravens are mocking me
They won't stop watching me
The ravens are mocking me

Paid to observe the people of this place
Who was I to speak on community
domestic disputes and beggars on the streets
The sun don't set and the people don't sleep

The beggars and the bruises and the diggers of the dirt
we are obligated to stay isolated here
we don't seem strong and we damn well aren't free
and the ravens are mocking me

The ravens are mocking me, the ravens are mocking me
They won't stop and answer me
The ravens are mocking me

Lonely and drunk around my kitchen table
no lover no family no friends just coyotes
I resent the North cuz I resent myself
I love my country but would die to be anywhere else

Invited to dance around a fire beneath the stars I became rain
I could fill this great expanse with this stranger's hand
and the drum's pain

When a man with a feather dress approached
He spoke of purpose and he spoke of being free
and he looked like a raven to me

The ravens they stomp their feet
the ravens they stomp their feet
Oh fame, oh fortune, oh a twenty-sheet

The ravens they stomp their feet they stomp their feet
they stomp their feet.

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