The pitter-patter of the rain
pouring down onto the ground
it’s music to my ears and restless soul
as it beats to it’s own rhythm
loud or soft and fast or slow
there’s no rush as it flows on it’s own
it’s as free as a bird in the sky
knowing no man or power
only nature can influence it’s sound
sending it’s on its way
the space around me quiets and the music moves on
it goes to another place, another being
and plays it’s song, so crisp and clear
that I always wish I could hear it again
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
