From the recording The Dwindling Road

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Based on a true story of a certain parrot who once occupied a cage in the corner of the bedroom.


My parrot is hilarious
Languid in his cage.
Ain’t the least bit curious
And all he does is age.
Same old feathers, same old seeds
Same old mirror and bell,
Wings as limp as soggy towels
No soaring dreams to quell
No wild flights to tell.

My parrot is hilarious
’specially when he talks
Not a word spontaneous
Only what he’s taught.
“Polly want a cracker”
“Carpe diem," "cest la vie"
No joyful, sad, or cursing sounds,
Just hollow syllables,
Colorless and dull.

My parrot is hilarious,
The one time he escaped,
He beat his gray wings furiously
To the window drapes.
Summer beckoned through the screen
He clung with trembling claw
A squawk or two and then he flew
Back to the cage’s maw,
And through the unhinged jaw.

My parrot is hilarious,
The same as you and me--
Except that what imprisons us
Are bars we cannot see.
Flights of fancy fill our heads,
But rarely do we soar,
We talk and squawk and flap around
And then commence to snore,
Until we’re heard no more.