Across the room, the blackbird preens

Her stately breast pushed out for all to see

There's coal for eyes with double black accents

Staring into the core of me

See, there's this song I know, about lovers long lost

A tragic down-tuned ditty that you could learn to play

There's a wailing harmonic on the guitar

And a baseline and kick drum to guide the way

From the other side of the hall the mourning dove cries

Her lonesome warble escorted by the breeze

She's got these feathers of gray, both light and dark

But the varying shades only serve to tease