Upon being plucked before being ripe
I can pray my rind won't taste bitter
Red funeral, the pallbearer's grip slipped
The casket split and bled feathers
Turbulent nights when the grey really showed
He rocked her to sleep much better
Give me some children to fill the hole
I'll even supply the shovels
But don't let them grow beyond your control
They'll crack you with the handles
Adopted worm convulsing inside
Scratching the brain persuaded to buy her
You picked me from the litter, I'm your favorite
So where were you when they threw in the punches?
Tending your young, making cheap assumptions
Hatching
Now we're begging
Crying
Now we're crawling
Spreading
Now we're flying
Soaring
Now we're falling...