Stories are to be told, good or bad, happy and sad.
The bird had a lot of untold one, allegedly mostly bad.
Acrobatically writers do their magic with the birds
Fumes eluding the editor and convincing de public
That this is the real magnificent product of human spirit

Witch is undubitably at least, what spirit is in ancestors consideration here?

Spirit of peace, serenity, luxury, anger, of people past,
So many waves in the sea that we, few and small, cannot opine?
One more verse about how irrelevant are we to compare to a glorious pine

I see thunder moving the leaves, after I open my eyes close to the lightning
I feel the path enchanting my life, some effort like the saw and the pine
Men walk and children run with their Kits yellow, blue, red, and purple, cutting each other.
The pine falls to the ground and all the birds are homeless, some eaten and other catch
Color is present in the blood, the sky, the river, and the sea; I just can't see any color in me.

Colour is present in the blood, the sky, the river, and the sea;
I just can't see any colour in me.
Cause I, me, fucking monochromatic being
Like hollow man, but not, 

Just a lose 45 hollow point shot, that is what we can buy,
Hitting nothing, nor a fucking fruit fly,
But provoking the stampee that will feed thee.
Yoall.