All the birds do sing
They sing about everything and anything
They are simply  hollow words
Sung by cute little birds
Floating through the peoples ears
Bringing smiles and calming fears
The birds work is never done
Because happiness is a loaded gun
But all the birds still fly around
Never allowed to touch the ground
They are to happy for such a fate
They wouldn't make it in the gate
They simply are and that's enough
Made of marshmallows and fluff