Someone let me know years ago of this song that Jim wrote of his friend, and some time girl friend, Patti Smith. I'd heard her nickname was Crow and thought it might be personal between them. However, I found this on the web tonight: "Salvador Dalí may have once told her she resembled a crow, but to this day, Patti Smith is much more widely regarded as a style icon". The song is likely autobiographical in nature as Jim was a heroin addict. I had not heard it in years but played it and other parts of Jim's album A Catholic boy on Christmas Day, 2020. There are bits I skip where the lyrics go places where these day I choose not to follow. However, this song is not one of those. Today when it came to the lines "It was so sweet when you brought donuts to the junkies Hey, you'd give us something we'd go slip into our coffee And we'd start reading lines from poems that didn't matter You covered me with blankets in the Chelsea hotel lobby" ... I literally broke out sobbing. This simple act of charity spoke to me in a deep way somehow. Jim lived out his personal tragedies in his art.