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• Little Bird • | by Lisa Hannigan
Your heart sings like a kettle
And your words, they boil away like steam.
A lie burns long while the truth bites quick,
A heart is built for both it seems.
You are lonely as a church,
Despite the queuing out your door.
I am empty as a promise, no more.

When the time comes,
And rights have been read,
I think of you often
But for once I meant what I said.

I was salted by your hunger,
Now you've gone and lost your appetite
And a little bird is every bit as handy in a fight.
I am lonely as a memory
Despite the gathering round the fire.
Aren't you every bird on every wire?

When the time comes,
And rights have been read,
I think of you often
But for once I meant what I said.
Here I stay, I lay me down,
In a house by the Hill.
Dug from the rubble, cut from the kill.
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