|
Everytime the bird man comes |
|
He flies overneath the bridge |
|
He swoops down low |
|
And picks me up |
|
And carries me over the ridge |
|
But somehow |
|
I discovered his game |
|
And he no longer seems to fly |
|
Anymore |
|
That way |
|
"Clever fellow, isn't he?" |
|
"Yes, very clever." |
|
But for now |
|
I find it hard |
|
To reason |
|
With myself |
|
And just in case |
|
I can't conceive |
|
Of anybody else |
|
I tried and tried to make it clear that what I want is not real at all |
|
"What kind of joint is this?" |
|
The time has come |
|
For me to see |
|
Just how much |
|
It means to me |
|
To tell someone |
|
Of what went on |
|
Now that the bird man's gone |
|
Even though you'll find it strange |
|
All along the bird man really was me |
