Just one lonely bird, flying through the end of the night.
Looking for something to eat, to stop his stomachs fight.
He flies with all his strenght in the dawn, flipping his brittle wings.
Watching the landscape from way up above, all the tiny things.
I wonder if he sees me from high up in the sky.
Unmoving in my bed, my baby’s sleeping tight.
If I budge she might wake up again, so I try with all my might
to sit as still as I possibly can in the early morning light.
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