Crazy birds all over me,
crazy birds pecking freely,
crazy birds I do not love…
dropping turds from high above.

This ain’t fine; they’re malign…
got no bird love!

Before the killing, we misunderstood
so many birds in the neighborhood.

Wretched birds everywhere seen,
wretched birds soon made us scream,
feckless words we cursed, but none
saved us from what would be done.

This ain’t fine; they’re malign…
got no bird gun!

Everywhere we went, we filled with dread,
while some of us even ended up dead,

Crazy birds flying freely,
frayed were nerves that weren’t steely.
Crazy birds I do not love…
dropping turds from high above.

This ain’t fine; they’re malign…
got no bird love!

I’ve got to blow and get out of sight,
hide myself away from these flocks in flight.

From the birds…must get away;
it’s a scourge in every way.
Kill the birds? That can’t be done.
Can’t shoot birds without a gun.

This ain’t fine; so I whine,
“Got no bird gun!”

Crave a bird gun….