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"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