Rare Bird

In hindsight I can note a master stroke A revelation from above, out of the blue My soul’s salvation could have been a joke A sad man’s joke, to save us from the truth That’s why it looks so truthful, this old tale As if our lives were planned on reasonable grounds But anyway, you see that luck prevails And luck’s a rare bird that never makes a sound It flies whatever way it wants to fly Lands down wherever it prefers to land Once I have seen its gaudy plumage in the sky I waved, and found a feather in my hand I was so lucky for a period of time Had no idea that its going to last one day We laughed and sang, and everything was fine Then colours faded since you've gone away No wisdom brings a healing consolation Perhaprs it shouldn’t for a pillock that I am But didn’t we receive that revelation To gain some luck, until the story had to end.