Why do the birds sing so early in the dawn?
Their honeysuckle melodies, before my day's alarm
I imagine they're rehearsing for some big, elaborate show
That I've not been invited to, so I should never know
The songs they like to sing, I suppose they're not too far
From all the songs I sing, when I'm alone late in my car (when I'm alone late in my car)
And if I were the postman awake for the afternoon
I'd be the lucky someone eavesdropping on their tunes
But I think I like it better when I sleep late past their call
For all I know, perhaps the birds don't even sing at all
We are nothing
Love comes easily to you
But not the hurt
You're impervious to blue
I wish I knew
How to sing about the other colors too
