Well, i saw a bird today
flying from a bush
and the wind blew it away.
and the black-eyed mother sun
scorched the butterfly at play
velvet veined. i saw it burn.
with a wintry storm-blown sigh,
a silver cloud blew right on by.
and, taking in the morning, i sang
o requiem.
Well, my lady told me, stay.
i looked aside and walked away
along the strand.
but i didn't say a word,
as the train time-table blurred
close behind the taxi stand.
saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window.
fading into the traffic; watched her go.
and taking in the morning,
heard myself singing
o requiem.
here i go again.
it's the same old story.
Well, i saw a bird today
i looked aside and walked away
along the strand.

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