The birds song
singing years of our symphony
the history of us
a view more daunting than our minds can accept
High in the mountains
they are there watching
though secluded its song sings of what the world has become

Since hatched from an egg
a mother telling them stories of the dangers of the world
We envy them for they can fly
have no boundaries
They envy us
our powerful stance

To befriend this creature is to realize
the wisdom they hold
In the morning their song tells us the history of man
In the evening they beg
we not repeat ourselves again

At night while we nestle in our beds
the soft chirps of what we should be and how we could see
play soundly
for they see the same view high up in the sky
anger, hate, love, death, destruction, hope

I pity and I envy
for their wings and songs of mope