And again when nothing stirred,
And not a word I said,
Then my little bird
And the little beak
Loosed its stubborn pride,
And it opened, it opened,
With a yearning strong and wide.
It lay in my breast,
It uttered no cry,
And again when nothing stirred,
And not a word I said,
Then my little bird
And the little beak
Loosed its stubborn pride,
And it opened, it opened,
With a yearning strong and wide.
It lay in my breast,
It uttered no cry,