The wrinkled bird eats a fig by the water
It tells a lie
It can’t decide whether to live or die
Having never really lived
Would death be an excitement?

The wrinkled bird lifts his wrinkled leg
It starts to cry
Can’t decide whether to laugh or cry
Having never really laughed
Would tears bring on emotion?

The wrinkled bird
The wrinkled bird

The wrinkled bird sits alone by the water
It starts to die
Can’t decide whether to go or try
Having never really tried
Could life be an excitement?

The wrinkled bird
The wrinkled bird

The wrinkled bird standing tall in the water
It starts to fly
It can’t decide whether to love or fly
Having never really loved
Would flight bring on the answer?

The wrinkled bird
The wrinkled bird
Fly away
Fly away
The wrinkled bird
Fly away