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Ravens Over the Ration Line von Young Ferris — Cover
TitelWA-Pr89nZuo7ocB

Ravens Over the Ration Line

vonYoung Ferris

TrapDüster3:09
SongtextEnglischFür Betriebe lizenziert
0:00von 3:09
−3:09

Song-Trailer (30 s)

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Über Ravens Over the Ration Line

„Ravens Over the Ration Line“ ist ein düsterer Song im Genre trap von Young Ferris (3:09, gesungen auf Englisch). Er gehört zum Katalog von WeavyAudio und ist für die Wiedergabe in Cafés, Restaurants, Fitnessstudios, Geschäften und anderen Betrieben lizenziert.

Mehr: Rap- und Trap-Musik für Betriebe lizenziert. Mehr nach Stimmung: düster. Für Ihren Standort lizenzieren.

Credits

Künstler
Young Ferris
Genre
Trap
Stimmung
Düster
Länge
3:09
Gesang
Englisch
Lizenz
Für Betriebe lizenziert

Schlüsselwörter

  • rap
  • Aggressive hip hop / trap banger with male vocals; menacing synth lead over punchy low-end
  • rapid-fire hats and snapping snares
  • Verses stay sparse and dry for tight
  • percussive bars; choruses swell with blown-out bass
  • layered gang chants
  • and widened stereo
  • Breakdown sections drop to almost acapella with faint synth drones
  • then slam back in with an even heavier
  • saturated mix and extra risers
  • hip hop
  • rapid
  • raw
  • vocal

Hinzugefügt vor 2 Monaten · 27.8.2026 · für die Wiedergabe in Betrieben lizenziert

Songtext· folgt dem Audio

Ravens Over the Ration Line – Songtext

Intro

Frost on the window, numbers etched in the glass

Grandmother's coat lining stitched with stamps from the past

Ravens on the wire before the bakery opened its door

She said count what you're given, never count what before

Verse

Dawn broke gray over the ration line, breath turned to smoke

Grandmother held her book like a psalm she woke to invoke

Stamped in blue ink, one loaf, one candle, one cup

Ravens on the gutter watched the whole street line up

She said hunger teaches patience faster than any priest

Sewed the extra stamps in her hem for the leanest feast

Coal stove coughing ash while the kettle sang thin

Six kids in one room, she stretched flour like it was sin

Butcher weighed the bone before he weighed the meat

Told her scraps was scraps but she made marrow sweet

Tin plates clattered like church bells calling the poor

Ravens counted heads better than the man at the door

She never begged, just budgeted grief into grace

Wore the same wool coat till it thinned to lace

Said the birds ain't scavengers, they're witnesses to will

Standing over the ones who learned starving and still

Chorus

Ravens over the ration line, watching who won't break

Every empty plate a lesson, every stamp a stake

Wings don't feed you but they teach you how to wait

Ravens over the ration line, that's how you learn your weight

Verse

Now I stand in a different line, county building, fluorescent hum

Same birds circle the parking lot, patient, waiting for crumbs

Grandmother's book is ash and paper, but the math she taught remains

Stretch the check to Sunday, save the extra for the rain

I split my plate three ways before I ever touch a bite

Learned to ration hope the way she rationed light

Scar on my knuckle from the factory line that closed

Wore that number like she wore her stamps, nobody chose

The cold don't care what year it is, it bites the same

Only difference is the paperwork, the acronym, the name

I keep her coat folded in the closet, wool still holds her shape

Ravens on my fire escape like they're checking the estate

Told my son what she told me, patience is a trade

Every debt gets paid in time, even the ones delayed

He asked why the birds keep coming, I said they remember more

They're counting who stood steady when the wolf was at the door

Chorus

Ravens over the ration line, watching who won't break

Every empty plate a lesson, every stamp a stake

Wings don't feed you but they teach you how to wait

Ravens over the ration line, that's how you learn your weight

Bridge

They used to say the ravens meant that death was drawing near

But grandmother said they're keeping score of who's still here

Every name they circled turned to something like a crown

Marginal in the ledger, legendary in this town

The line moves slower now but the will don't lose its shine

Legacy ain't the money, it's the way you hold the line

Outro

Frost melts different now but the birds still know my face

Grandmother's stamps turned stories, stories turned to grace

Aus dem Katalog

Auch auf WeavyAudio

WeavyAudio StudioWA-Pr89nZuo7ocB

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