The last time I spoke to my aunt before she died
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She was describing to me this incredible owl
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That was sitting in a tree
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It meant nothing to me
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But it means a lot more now
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Because I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird
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I'm waiting, I'm ready, I know it is my turn
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All those cigarettes, alcohol, this body's through
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You're gone for sure when the bird comes for you
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And the last time I spoke to my uncle before he died
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It was the very same week, but one year before her
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He was sitting alone in his study, on the phone
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When a giant hawk flew by
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Said, "I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird,
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I didn't expect to be noticed or heard.
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Oh, Elizabeth, help me, I can't find the room,
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You're gone for sure when the bird comes for you."
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And, oh, it is scary
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And, oh, it is cold to the bone
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My body's not ready for my mind to learn
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I have just been consigned here to rot in the earth
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Said, "I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird,
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It comes in and takes you away from this world.
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Gate twenty-seven, I can't find the room.
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You're free to board now, they're waiting for you."
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I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird
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I've seen it three times now, there's nothing to learn
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And don't be surprised if the sky's bright and blue
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And the white bird of Texas comes barreling through
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White Bird Of Texas
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| Liz Phair |
