Birdshapes Songtext
von Mythmaking

The bird, curled against the cold
Pushes its beak into the warmth of its breast
Assuming a shape commanding nothing of glory
Like a wingspan unfurling and taking to sky

For this bird has never had the power
To beat the land away with ease
And this bird has never flown far enough
To have ever truly felt free


But if a hymn should arise from its throat in the winter
It will not be to condemn the snow
For even if the melody rings sweet and true
It will never hurry the coming of spring

So the bird will just have to wait
Until the winter breaks
Because for now it is living
And life is enough
To be worthy of a singer to sing