I'm sitting beneath the old oak tree,
Feeling light and feeling free.
I hear a sweet song fall upon me.
And I slowly drift to sleep.
The song birds voice is full of magic.
It can be beautiful. It can be tragic.
All the other birds wish they had it.
And so that song bird sings.
I can hear its melody in my dreams.
As warm and comforting as summer sun beams.
My consciousness is ripping at the seams.
I feel I may never wake.
The song is powerful and truly hypnotic.
Stronger than the doctor's narcotics.
With a foreign tune, harmony exotic.
This music; so unique.
This fowl is a symphony all on its own.
Wings like drums, vocals like a xylophone.
Talent in every feather and bone.
I wish that bird was mine.
But alas, that bird is forever free.
And so it flies away from me.
My dream is over. I begin to see.
I am all alone.
So I stand and I look around.
Knowing well, that bird cannot be found.
And when I am done I sit back down.
And shed a single tear.
I do not cry because I'm sad.
I do not cry because I'm glad.
I do not cry because it was bad.
I cry because I know.
I know one day soon I will return.
In hopes that I might possibly earn,
That song for which I always yearn.
From the lovely song bird.