they never complain about thunderstorm
birds tolerate sunstroke and take hot baths
crash and burn wings and hunger they transform
they keep instinct orderly in their path
even in dreams, never as bad as man
go outside in daylight and sleep in dark
like humans, they don't aggressively plan
just sew their agony and never bark
they don't budge to human instinct of war
or use religion and make suicide bombs
spread both their wings in the clouds to explore
in trouble without blame game, they keep calm
birds never feel sorry, they never cry
but fly in the air and kiss the azure sky
