Chris Walla-A Bird is a Song
★ lrc 編輯：妙一法師
Colorado, can you hear me? Are you listening?
Do you even care? Are you even there?
The concrete canopy, mountains of symmetry;
the city policy, the city air. The boroughs I have
seen seem so unfair, as do the feathers on the
sidewalks I find there.
I do not need to speak, but I want to listen to the
tiniest of flights and their transmissions. The words
tied to their wings are the words I'm going to sing.
A noise, small and strong: A bird is a song.
Torch the sails, and set ire to our deals: My heaven
is here, my heaven is here. Who would need escape,
who would seek salvation from a place so bright
and clear?
I do not need to see, but I need a vision. I want
seamless operation upon ignition. The fuel that I salt
away will keep us through the darkest of days; will keep
us well through winters long, and when springtime
starts her broadcast, the birds are our song
Keep your feathers clean and dry.
Keep your feathers clean and dry.
End
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