I thought I was a bird, I mean, I have a beak.
I thought I could fly because I hovered
in a sky colored robin's egg blue.
My wings never even got tired.
Life was easy until. . . crack
When I saw my world lay broken, and
in this new one-- I can't fly,
I mean, not even a little bit--I cried.
So maybe I'm not a bird after all.
Maybe I'm an alligator. Maybe
I just dreamt I was a bird.
All I know is that freedom is cold
and big and hungry. But it's worth it,
because I found you here in
this place. What do you call it?
Yeah, a nest . . . a nest.