Dusk is casting shadows,
The light is painted gold,
And the birds keep taking
Nosedives toward the
Paved and curving roads.
Do they think the streets are
Rivers? From above they may
Seem blue, and they'd be
Better off avoided—if
The birds only knew.
Dusk is casting shadows,
The light is painted gold,
And the birds keep taking
Nosedives toward the
Paved and curving roads.
Do they think the streets are
Rivers? From above they may
Seem blue, and they'd be
Better off avoided—if
The birds only knew.