Like a wounded bird trying to fly

Like a wounded bird trying to fly Surrounded by green ferns Still, a cozy and scenic place to die Lately, I've been flying high Then, I guess, I had to crash Always did I love that line But never did I apply it to myself 'Til just then On the corner of our camping site There's an entrance there to the woods Watch my kids there as they play While me, I'm-a-just pick away On a red Fender Palomino guitar for a change My daddy was a railroad man Imagine all the miles of steel He rode along his whole life long And now I just put that in a song My mother, she would mend our wounds While he was out along the track Maybe try and clip our wings Well, I remember everything Like the red-feathered wingspan of some great majestic bird Come flying over the horizon Over field of birds of paradise or medicine Or was it real, or was it just a dream? Or was it real, or just a dream? Just a dream Like a wounded bird trying to fly Surrounded by some trees In a cozy scenic place Wish the world would stop and take notice of all the disgrace But then, breathe in quite deep And smell all the flowers while in bloom Like a wounded bird trying to fly Well, my daughter, she wrote that line so copyright Awilda Vile Like a wounded bird trying to fly Like a wounded bird trying to fly, trying to fly Trying to fly