Well, I saw a bird today

flying from a bush

and the wind blew it away.

And the black-eyed mother sun

scorched the butterfly at play

velvet veined. I saw it burn.

With a wintry storm-blown sigh,

a silver cloud blew right on by.

And, taking in the morning, I sang

O Requiem.

Well, my lady told me, "Stay."

I looked aside and walked away

along the strand.

But I didn't say a word,

as the train time-table blurred

close behind the taxi stand.

Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window.

Fading into the traffic; watched her go.

And taking in the morning,

heard myself singing

O Requiem.

Here I go again.

It's the same old story.

Well, I saw a bird today

I looked aside and walked away

along the Strand.