Black Bird Sitting in a bare birch tree
High above the ground looking down on me
Sees the big picture, how it s'posed to be
Waits to pick the bones of missed opportunity
Chorus
Old mother sits on her front porch swing
Knows all the words to all the songs I sing
Sang them too, when just a young lost thing
Now she wallows in the depths of her mis-stepping
Chorus
Black Bird fallen from a bare birch tree
Mama wears a feather from its broken wing
Belly filled with warmth that the crow stew bring
Dead and gone, but that bird still sing
Chorus
