(White Bird Of Texas)
The last time I spoke to my aunt before she died
She was describing to me this incredible owl
That was sitting in a tree
It meant nothing to me
But it means a lot more now
Because I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird
I'm waiting, I'm ready, I know it is my turn
All those cigarettes, alcohol, this body's through
You're gone for sure when the bird comes for you
And the last time I spoke to my uncle before he died
It was the very same week, but one year before her
He was sitting alone in his study, on the phone
When a giant hawk flew by
Said,
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