Little Imaginary Bird

The bird in my kitchen has gone a missin and now I have no one to listen. I talk and talk, and run and walk but now I just sit and sulk. A chirping sound that no one hears, a light weight feather to dry my tears anything to stop these fears. That whimpering dog with some suggestion, a sickly face which raises the question. A little secret a little smelly, a big problem in that little belly. A feather here a feather there, but my best friend isn't anywhere. An empy cage, a lot of rage another loss turns another page. But through it all, the rise the fall the tiny the little the big the tall, Ill never forget my birdie Paul.