Mockingbird

Sweet little mocking bird Sitting so high in your tree Sing your sickly sweet tune The very same which you stole, From the little songbird. The very same whom spent so long To weave it's song together. Sweet little mocking bird Sitting just on my shoulder. Why do you look down on me As you sing your beautifully twisted tune, That which you have stolen from others. Why are you so cruel as to swipe the notes Out from their very throats. Sweet little mocking bird Sitting on his lonely guitar. Why must you sing so sweetly to his strums Why must that sweet mocking tune Come out from your little beak, As he strums out his notes