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 seduce 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