There is a glass bird,
sitting in the window,
and everytime I look,
it seems to come to life,
and everytime it does,
I look up from my book,
and there it is again,
wondering where I've been.

The bird then flies to me,
it lands upon my head,
its like it wants to tell me something,
I dont know what it said.

But then it flies away,
out into the world,
it always comes back,
and come and go it may.

And when it cetches the light,
it looks so beautiful,
and then it turns to glass again,
and warms my empty soul.