Singin' of the Birds

Once we tried to record the singin' birds

Cable stretched for miles from your door

Near the landing of the planes I never felt so plain

Birds never sang the same again

I take the train in the morning when it's still night out

A night owl sings for the moonlight crowd

On the frozen path to your bedroom door

I walked beside you between sycamore

I never told you this but on Christmas

I saw you selling trees on avenue A

Winter wind knows your paper skin

There's a certain slant of light on madison tonight

It shines on vines that grow in rows round

Telephone wires never tire of carrying midnight crows

Does the book of nightmares call across

The valley of not knowing

The wayward vine of winter time

And where on earth it is growing

And are your typewriter words for January third

The key to the secret venue

Perhaps you've heard singin' of the birds

You can't change a person ever darling can you