In this misty phase
lies a useless gaze
that looks not forward or back
it just stares
I dont know

As the birds fly
the tramp asks
what I'm staring for

I dont watch birds anymore

In their sleepy aspirations
and dreamy occupations
somewhere I used to know...
used to know

Prisoner of their soul migration
inviting me to travel
I just dont know

I dont watch birds anymore

To my reflection I pass inspection
whats the difference between "apart" and dissection?

I'm a slave to my freedom
a cynic that is believing
are the birds staying or leaving?

In my sanctuary with a closed door
I dont watch birds anymore

List my kiss to the abyss
my thoughts make an emphatic trip
that someone records on compact disk
and plays in a place I really miss

In my room, with a locked door
I dont watch birds anymore

And even with overdue rent
I have never been so content