Yeah, 2, 1, 2, now you hear this?
This typical drunk observer fashioned witless
Stumble, order again to avoid my litmus
My wishlist, only to be witnessed
Get a fresh flat bound and a 2B
Chances are these scribblings aren't to be
Stained glass or historical studied fiction
But stay a human explorer on a mission
From my pen tip flows bitter spritz
Where I only ever want blood and wit
Listen close. Can I get with it?
Is each verse or thought perhaps another blip?
Another chance at a bigger picture
Can I paint without reading literature?
Can I write knowing only familiar numb pain?
Can I fight and still know my name?

In these lyrebird days
Am I mimicking you? Are you mimicking me?
In these lyrebird days
Am I mimicking you? Are you mimicking me?

Told the mind needs some refined alignments
Running mouths never offer up requirements
Remember...it's alright to say nothing and be silent
Make em look up while you're shoulder standing on a giant

Peering through a looking glass of amusements
Opaque windows becoming translucent
Seeing bleating sheep with deafening recruitments
Fleeting sights concluding disillusionments

Working with too many superlatives
Oh wait...too many syllables, I'll go conservative
Alternatives worse compared to what it is
Pejoratives are the only things I'm working with

And so, now I'm focused on the, hocus pocus
Got magicians saying, to give up it's hopeless
Notice smoke and mirrors never the close ups -
It's the, slight of hand that always fools us

In these lyrebird days
Am I mimicking you? Are you mimicking me?
In these lyrebird days
Am I mimicking you? Are you mimicking me?

Back to old kicks, dig a fresh eye to it
First trips through production didn’t quite hit
But a glint or a vision as murky as it is
Heard shit never should have dropped, stayed as practice
Oh no, formative, necessary baby steps probably going to trip
Some show instinctive, I’m inquisitive
Keep plugging away until something sticks
Oh no, old man in context out there fishing
Bated breath until death, out all evening
Slowly learning patience and some tricks
But he knows, come nightfall, he’s still not eating
Look to the stars, time again, check his charts
Claim his unorthodox technique is his art
Any moment now, fish will play their part
Have I the heart to tell him the pond’s dried up?

In these lyrebird days
Am I mimicking you? Are you mimicking me?
In these lyrebird days
Am I mimicking you? Are you mimicking me?