Riding with my family in a '58 Buick I can still recall How we'd drive through the valley To my Grandmother's house Every summer vacation, when I was small And I'd gaze out the window At the farms and the orchards And the sound of our motor Would frighten the starlings And they'd rise from the fields to fly
My mother would grumble "Those birds are a curse They're a thorn in the farmers" side But I couldn't help feeling sad and inspired By their desperate ballet in the sky
Chorus
Say a prayer for the starlings A hot, dry wind beats their ragged wings Have a thought for the starlings No one ever listens to the songs they sing Say a prayer for the starlings There's no welcome for them anywhere Leave some crumbs for the starlings They say that Winter will be cold this year
She was sitting on a curb by the Seven ElevenŽ She asked if I had some spare change Her skin wore that leathered and wind-burned look And the light in her blue eyes was wild and strange I sat down beside her and asked her her name She said, "pick one you like, I need something to eat" And her life made me think Of the dead leaves in Autumn Drifting like ghosts down the street
Is the life that we celebrate only a dream A lie that we serve like a God made of stone And our hearts are the hunter Birds with no nesting place Weary and aching for home
