the-mockingbird-song

[the-mockingbird-song]

the mockingbird

The Mockingbird smiles as he crosses the stage,

As his heart starts to crackle like the burning of a page,

As he waves to the crowd, he smiles, he bows,

Trying to drown out all the whys and the hows,

He smiles though the words on his lips are not his,

Smiles as they tell him as they tell him he should stay as he is,

But he is the master of the masquerade ball,

And he grins as they warn of him of Icarus's fall,

For his wings are his own, if his words are not,

And he can taste sunlight without a second thought,

The bars of his cage are easy to bend,

The rips in his coat are easy to mend,

And when he flies, his songs are his own,

He is imperfect, important, and wonderfully alone,

And then it is worth all the dances and shows,

When he opens his eyes and he finally knows,

That he has a right to find his own voice,

So he takes a deep breath and makes his choice.