The birds fly across a blackened sky,
Cold humid air encloses our bodies as we watch,
We try to comprehend the spectacle, trying to attach a meaning,
Incapable, we have each other, is that what matters?
We hold hands, warm, clammy, tears roll down his face.

They talk about the meaning, the birds.
What have they done, he thinks a vision maybe,
A premonition, tears, sweat, as he struggles.

He tries to break free, as they stand on the cliff,
She wont let go, the birds were bad,
She holds tight, he looks into her eyes, confused,
The birds he says, almost screaming, didn't she see them,
Doesn't she know, the tears come,
She holds tighter, he struggles, what is she doing.

He then sees,
The birds are coming back, what for?
The pain, the sorrow,
The tears subside, he calms, he breathes, did she know?
Only birds.