The Waiting
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Staring At A Bird

The Waiting


I'm here staring at a bird in a tree
Lying still, only wishing he were me
'Cause for a bird it's not a crime
To try and satisfy his bird belly hunger
Or fly the blue belly sky

And from his bird's eye view
He can pick and he can choose
He doesn't have to grieve his spirit
No he doesn't have to lose a moment's joy there in his nest
No matter what his mess, and he can barrel out his chest
And he can fly away...

But I'm pinned down in my bed again
I don't think I could fly (I wouldn't try)
If I was a bird I would be content
To peck along the ground
'Cause I'm pinned down again...

I'm here staring at a bird on a limb
Lying still, only wishing I was him
'Cause I could use a haven,
A nest above my fate
Call it a rest from the chasing of me pillow and my plate

And for a bird it's always right to love his appetite
He's too dumb to know the struggle, to weak to know the fight
He can fly south when he gets cold, sing until he's old
And on a whim, he can unfold his wings
And fly away

I'm here staring at a bird in the air
I wonder what I'd see if I looked down from there
I'd see a shattered temple, all it's members in a sweat
Everyone's been degraded, every sermon they forget

I'd see a man pulled from his bed by the same Hands of Love
That hung a cross around his neck
Just to remind him, remind him who he was...

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