Bird Of Space

You talk when you cease
To be at peace with your thoughts
And when you can no longer dwell
In the solitude of your heart you live in your lips
And the sound is a pastime a diversion and wasetime
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered

For thought is a bird, a bird of space
That in a cage of words may unfold its wings
But cannot fly
For thought is a bird, a bird of space
That in a cage of words may unfold its wings
But cannot fly, but cannot fly

And sound is a pastime a diversion and wasetime
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered

For thought is a bird, a bird of space
That in a cage of words may unfold its wings
But cannot fly
For thought is a bird, a bird of space
That in a cage of words may unfold its wings
For thought is a bird, a bird of space
That in a cage of words may unfold its wings