Well, I saw a bird today, flying from a bush,
And the wind blew it away.
And the black-eyed mother sun
Scorched the b___erfly at play, velvet veined. I saw it burn.
With a wintry storm-blown sigh, a silver cloud blew right on by.
And, taking in the morning, I sang:
O Requiem.

Well, my lady told me, "Stay."
I looked aside and walked away along the Strand.
But I didn't say a word,
As the train time-table blurred close behind the taxi stand.
Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window.
Fading into the traffic; watched her go.
And taking in the morning, heard myself singing:
O Requiem. Here I go again. It's the same old story.

Well, I saw a bird today.
I looked aside and walked away along the Strand.

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