There's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there,
I'm not going to let anybody see you.

There's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him
and inhale cigarette smoke
and the whores
and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that he's in there.

There's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay down,
do you want to mess me up?
You want to screw up the works?
You want to blow my book sales in Europe?

There's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I'm too clever,
I only let him out at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be sad.
Then I put him back,
but he's singing a little in there,
I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
with our secret pact
and it's nice enough
to make a man weep,
but I don't weep...

Do you?

-Charles Bukowski