My lover's not so commonplace-
Strong of mind, and fair of face-

She paints her nails, she paints her toes-
Who knows where my lover goes?

The birds fly here and everywhere.
They even nest within her hair.

They sing a song of fated love.
They scatter in the skies above.

When she walks by, leaves in the trees
Whisper her name. Or is it the breeze?

She loves me not. Who is to blame?
She does not even know my name.