Old oak tree standing high and proud,
Your leaves have fallen onto the ground,
The birds that nest on you will come back,
Only next year to nest in you once again,
Your leaves by then will be green by then,
And fall of life until they fall again.
The birds song drums inside my ear,
The bueatiful song that i like so dear,
I wonder why they sing through their calls,
Is it about terror, love or the falls?
Maybe their calling out to ones that have passed,
Making it seem as though it's only there.
The birds no all they purely understand,
Their heart filled song crying to the end,
Flying over head above my lingering eyes,
I see them spread their wings,
And watch them take flight,
Waiting for them to return at night.
Maybe they're telling me something,
Something that i could take to heart,
Maybe i should stand on my own,
Or form a flock of my own blood,
Maybe they're telling me to do one thing,
And thats to walk away and spread my wings.
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