Spare-Ohs — Andrew Bird

The finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney what remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect

but their yolk isn't easy in fact it's a drag as they're blowing through cornfields and mountains of rags

all over the suburbs across the great lawns crop-dusting gardens all over this town

but nobody cares when it gets in their hair it gets in their lungs as it floats through the air it gets in the food that they buy and prepare but nobody cares when it gets in their hair

across the great chasms and schisms and the sudden aneurisms where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eyes and your teeth are worth more than you can spare oh don't tell me that it just isn't fair don't speak about the cycles of life 'cause your thoughts are so soft I could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife

and the wine made our mouths too loose such a reckless choice of words when you tell me that I'm too obstruce I just thought it was a kind of bird I just stood there not saying a word