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Evening With the Birds
Folder:
The Letters "Tell me, you won't be the death of me"
I had hesitated slightly at these words
My confusion broke loose and I
stammered the answer back at you
You said you gave your head a vacation
I guess you really needed it and I thought,
what do I have?
What do I have?
It "ain't" love
And it ain't proper speech my dear
Im sure whatever it is, it's stuck on
your bedroom floor
I think we both know,
that you and the traffic will
chew me up and spit me out
And the rest of me will be left for the birds
I never minded feeding the birds
they make for a pretty evening and
a good
quiet
smoke
