Look mister, let's
get one thing straight.
Your attitude
needs adjustment,
you've got your beak
all bent outta shape
over what? Perching
there above the field,
feathers all dusty
and raggedy-ass
in the heat like
all this somehow
comes down to you?
I don't think so,
Mister I-don't-give-a
fuck!, Mister Lord-
of-all-creation!,
Mister chirp aleck!
Let's face it.
no one wants to
hear any more of your
cute-as-a-kitten
singing, that sweet
music you seem to
think is so god-
damned important,
we don't want
to hear another
peep! Smart ass!
You best get off
your high horse, mister,
if you know what's
good for you -- it's
high time you started
acting more like
a crow or a hawk
or even an owl,
for Christ's sake, not
some shrunken finch,
it's time you
acted your age. son.
I'll knock that
smirk right off
your beak! I swear,
you think I won't,
but I'm not afraid
to tan your tail
feathers, trim back
your little wing hard.
I mean it. I don't need
your sulking, your
judgement, your high
falutin' airs! Now,
stop acting so
sorry for yourself
and help me rake up
all this hay
before the sun
goes down.
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