The song of a mockingbird is a cry
With wings that are as similar to clouds
I surely cannot tell a single lie
For my moral is quite well endowed
The dove's palette reminds me of peace
The vulture's motives enrage my heart.
It feeds on the sheep's pure white fleece
As Winter comes, the birds depart
The eagle stands mighty and strong
The owl searches from a far distance
I will not take your words of pity and wrong
My hope is filled by hate's nonexistence
My beliefs were built on what I think
My thoughts of nature will never sink.