Stellar spirit, fearless flier to high skies, your wings are gifts of freedom,
your florid songs, tug at my heart as much as those plumage,
your elan, though subdued a bit by harsh weather, takes new shoots,
never in disquiet, indomitable, your inner lamp, now burns with camphor light.
I see you fly above the storm clouds, singing anthem of your soul,
spectacular, in clear weather, cheered by your dear ones near,
the hillsides, valleys and dales resound with your dulcet tunes.

I think life is really quite simple
If you think about it the way
I do.

Well, how you do you think about it?

What if we are the birds.

What do you mean?

I mean I've spent my whole life
Envious of birds and their
Ability to fly.

So?

So often I wonder how lovely it would be
To own the sky.

Yeah, I suppose
That'd be nice.

You'd think so right?
But maybe they've spent their whole lives
Thinking 'man I wish I could drive those cars
Or watch those movies
Or go to school.'

You think birds care about
Things like that?

No, I don't think they do,

That's why we should live
Like we're the birds.