[Natural]

.


It was my middle thirties, I met a little birdie
In my head it was perfect under the surface
I knew the language, he relieved my anguish
Retrieved my saneness, cleansed my dreams
Waves of changes made them painted clean
Tranquil blankets of make believe, aiding me
Trading places with reality, I say this thankfully
I was stained with grief, so drained and weak
Roaming homeless, lonely, in rain for weeks
So soaked in a hopeless series of errie omens
I thought I'd be better off in a coffin below them
Left to rott and put out of the misery I roll in
I was done slumming in empty parking lots
Done diving in alley ways in the darkest spots
Until this little birdie came into my head chirping
I was certain I would be dead in my bed of burbon