Poetry
There's a Bluebird In My Heart
-Charles Bukowski
-Charles Bukowski
there's a bluebird in my heart that |
wants to get out |
but I'm too tough for him, |
I say, stay in there, I'm not going |
to let anybody see |
you. |
there's a bluebird in my heart that |
wants to get out |
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale |
cigarette smoke |
and the whores and the bartenders |
and the grocery clerks |
never know that |
he's |
in there. |
there's a bluebird in my heart that |
wants to get out. |
but I'm too tough for him, |
I say, |
stay down, do you want to mess |
me up? |
you want to screw up the |
works? |
you want to blow my book sales in |
Europe? |
there's a bluebird in my heart that |
wants to get out. |
but I'm too clever, I only let him out |
at night sometimes |
when everybody's asleep.. |
I say, I know that you're there, |
so don't be sad. |
then I put him back, |
but he's singing a little |
in there, I haven't quite let him |
die |
and we sleep together like |
that |
with our |
secret pact |
and it's nice enough to |
make a man |
weep, but I don't |
weep, do |
you? |
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