I was woken early morning when
The earth lay cool and still,
A tiny bird had perched upon
My concrete window sill.
He sang a song so lovely,
Oh so carefree and so gay,
That all my dreamed-of troubles
They just slowly slipped away.
He sang of far-off places,
And of laughter and of fun;
It seemed his very trilling
Had brought up the morning sun.
I stirred beneath the covers,
Creeping slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window
And crushed his f**king head.
I’m not a morning person.