There's a bluebird in me He drowns in my left ventricle Shots of liquor and stories After I shout at him to be quiet for one more evening Let my hands dance across what they may The paper, the keys, the strings, the body I hush him when he whimpers Telling him tomorrow he can breath He wants to get out
I talk to him when he flutters I ask if he wants this to end Sure things are bad He can’t sleep as the frogs croak in my throat And the violinist plays my intestine strings But I glare at him Telling him he wants to give up the good times Accusing him What about the smiles on our friend's faces? What about being real to us? What about the success we’ve made soaked with our whiskey-stained tears? He wants to get out
When it's late, I let him out There is no shortage of alone time with him He never feels lonely in our tango I let him fly around my room as I toss and turn We watch the lights of the parking lot fly across the walls Looking at the designs our blindness gives us Can we find a story on those walls? A phrase, an idea We often go to bed tired and wake up so With the lights giving us nothing He wants to get out
I whisper to him that he is right Neither of us believes me But he will always be trapped in my heart And he can’t ****** me to change The lights are telling us a story of a bird Trapped in a cage. We won’t talk about who it is But they want to get out