Each Little Bird

Couldn't it be a choir
Shouldn't it be some kind of classic symphony
In the woods and on the wire
Sound waves bouncing back and forth in sympathy

But in this crowded closet
And outside in that clearing
Harmony is not the word
For whatever I'm hearing

No wonder it's so hard for them to get along
Each little bird with its own damn song
Tweet tweet tweet, whistle whistle whistle, caw caw caw
Each little bird with its own damn song

Shouldn't there be a channel
Everyone's tuned in to like some bright north star
Or perhaps a panel
Making joint decisions 'bout the repertoire
Just watch a monster birthing
Just watch a human being
Harmony is not the word
For whatever we're seeing

Some they cry, some they hum, and some they sing so strong
Each little bird with its own damn song
Each little bird with its own damn song

The headlines shortly
The crime, the courts
The feel-good story
The Dow, now sports

And finally the forecast
In lieu of a full frontal lobotomy
Guess we both had better
Find the grace notes caught in the cacophony
Could be that grandpa's growing
Could be that toddler's teething
Harmony can't be the only
Reason for breathing

Maybe each bird in flight was alright all along
Each little bird with its own grand song
Coo kee kee, whistle whistle whistle, I was wrong
Each little bird with its own sweet song