when I was a child I talked like a child
with a broken mouth
and all my hope and faith and trust fell out
now uncertain future stared in a faltering heart
and I have grown sullen and speechless
next to crying stones
but the birds of the air
they don't tear at their wings
so that things will be better
the flowers in the fields
don't steal the clothes
they're robed in heather
and taken have I, the road less travelled by
and that has made all the difference
as the path it fades
and though I am lost and lonesome
with my own thoughts
I've got a blanket of stars
and the earth a pillow to lay my weary head on
for the birds of the air
they don't tear at their wings
so that things will be better
the flowers in the fields
don't steal the clothes
they're robed in heather
and what kind of father would offer a snake
when a child asked for fish in the sea
I know you love me better
so give of your blood and your body and spirit please
the birds of the air
they don't tear at their wings
so that things will be better
the flowers in the fields
don't steal the clothes
they're robed in heather
and I will sing a new song
I will sing it aloud
the one that you put in my soul
I will sing a new song
like the profits who told the kings and queens of old
the birds of the air
they don't tear at their wings
so that things will be better
but things will be better
things will be better
things will be better