I started with a catalogue
But the wind came o 'er a mountain
and blew all my work away
I tried to write another,
but the sunny days were gone
They were all replaced by photographs
and fiberglass and styrofoam
I knew I should surrender,
Of vitamins and flesh and wealth
of what I thought was mine
And everything like fruit that was
A pocket of silver, a lover's caress
heard that I'll never forget
A bird in the hand is worth less
A pheasant rose out from the bush
and flew across the field.
I battered him with bullets
just to see if he would yield.
if I refuse your offerings of help.
Sometimes there are birds
that I would rather kill myself.
I'd learn to pull his feathers off
and stuff him full of salt.
I'd eat his breast and wing and
stick a feather in my cap
And drink so much I'd speak in tongues
till everything went black
A pocket of silver, a lover's dress
There's one thing I've heard
A bird in the hand is worth
Some things are cast off,
A pocket of silver, a lover's caress
A bird in the hand is worth less
4.7
