| Someone once told me what it means
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| When a bird comes into your house
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| Is it an omen
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| Is it a curse
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| Oh I can’t recall, can’t recall
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| But in this little story
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| That’s just what occurred
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| A strange bird who flew in from afar
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| She circled the eaves as if she couldn’t decide
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| Weaving in and out of the window
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| Finally she settled for a short time
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| On the south side by the torn curtain
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| The race of her breast, the twitch of her head
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| Suggested that she could be hurting
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| But what can you do for a strange little soul
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| Whose language isn’t your own
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| Then she started to sing, sing the strangest things
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| Of a life, a life that was borrowed
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| And you heard about things
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| That you couldn’t believe
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| Still you needed to hear every song
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| What does it mean, what does it mean
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| When a bird comes into your house
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| What does it mean, what does it mean
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| When a bird comes into your house
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| She flew up the chimney, beating her wings
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| A sound ever so unsettling
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| A few moments later she just brushed your head
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| Round and round the rafters she flew
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| And you sat so still, holding your breath
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| And told your heart to stop beating
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| She swooped down, then there she was
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| Perched in your hand, there she was
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| She swooped down, then there she was
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| Perched in your hand, there she was
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| Her feathers were filthy
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| Like a cape of dust
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| But she smelled of almonds and earth
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| You could see flecks of blue shimmering through
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| A strange little bird, there she was
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| Oh did you ever hold a bird in your hand
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| A hand where she happened to land
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| Someone once told me what it’s worth
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| But I can’t recall, can’t recall
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| I can’t recall, can’t recall |