A Bird Flies Out کے بول

A bird flies out and over the rooftops down past the cars in my line of view. It's a strange beginning, comic and awkward grace. In a picture, on the table I'm in a red dress waiting for a reason holding a tightly packed suitcase. Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you. Maybe I want to love my dream that'll never come true. Someone who is real, oh, gets in the way and moves inside my heart, not just my head interfering with how I want to feel. How do I want to feel, I wonder? You could be water to me, I could be wine. The stars have all faded here they give us no sign. Is this the right time? The smoke curls up and ribbons the air away from my nervous fingers. The cigarette sputters, a tired reluctant burn. In a picture, on the table you are a driver peering past the moment holding the wheel until it turns. Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.