Randy Stonehill - Starlings lyrics

Riding with my family in the '58 Buick, I can still recall how we'd drive through the valley to my grandmother's house every summer vacation when I was small, And I'd gaze out the window at the farms and the orchards, counting the telephone poles pa**ing by, And the sound of our motor would frighten the starlings, and they'd rise from the fields to fly, My mother would grumble, "Those birds are a curse; they're a thorn in the farmers' side," But I couldn't help feeling sad and inspired by their desperate ballet in the sky. Say a prayer for the starlings, The hot, dry wind beats their ragged wings, Have a thought for the starlings, No one ever listens to the songs they sing, Say a prayer for the starlings, There's no welcome for them anywhere, Leave some crumbs for the starlings, They say that winter will be cold this year. She was sitting on a curb by the 7 Eleven; she asked if I had some spare change, Her skin wore that leathered and wind-burned look, and the light in her blue eyes was wild and strange, I sat down beside her and asked her her name, She said, "Pick one you like; I need something to eat," And her life made me think of the dead leaves in autumn drifting like ghosts down the street, Is the life that we celebrate only a dream, a lie that we serve like a god made of stone? And our hearts are the hunter, Birds with no nesting place, weary and aching for home. Say a prayer for the starlings, The hot, dry wind beats their ragged wings, Have a thought for the starlings, No one ever listens to the songs they sing, Say a prayer for the starlings, There's no welcome for them anywhere, Leave some crumbs for the starlings, They say that winter will be cold this year, this year.