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Oh, the falcon was a pretty bird |
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Wandered as she flew |
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She danced around and pranced around |
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Wherever the warm winds blew |
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And the falcon was a pretty bird |
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Her voice was always still |
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But men with drums and men with guns |
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They taught her how to kill |
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Her eye was on the sparrow |
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Her mind was on the dove |
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But no one cared and no one dared |
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To speak to her of love |
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Her eyes are always hooded |
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Her claws are sharp as steel |
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We teach her not to see too much |
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We teach her not to feel |
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Go build you a log cabin |
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On a mountain so high |
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And hear the feathered war-bird's yell |
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As she goes screaming by |
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She'll tease you |
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She'll please you |
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She'll satisfy your needs |
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But someday she might turn around |
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And maul the hand that feeds |
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Your hours might be numbered |
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Your end might come someday |
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Go break her chain and free her brain |
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And send her on her way |
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And the falcon is a pretty bird |
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Wonders as she flies |
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She asks us easy questions |
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We tell her easy lies |
