(White Bird Of Texas) The last time I spoke to my aunt before she died She was describing to me this incredible owl That was sitting in a tree It meant nothing to me But it means a lot more now Because I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird I'm waiting, I'm ready, I know it is my turn All those cigarettes, alcohol, this body's through You're gone for sure when the bird comes for you And the last time I spoke to my uncle before he died It was the very same week, but one year before her He was sitting alone in his study, on the phone When a giant hawk flew by Said, "I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird, I didn't expect to be noticed or heard. Oh, Elizabeth, help me, I can't find the room, You're gone for sure when the bird comes for you." And, oh, it is scary And, oh, it is cold to the bone My body's not ready for my mind to learn I have just been consigned here to rot in the earth Said, "I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird, It comes in and takes you away from this world. Gate twenty-seven, I can't find the room. You're free to board now, they're waiting for you." I'm waiting, I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the bird I've seen it three times now, there's nothing to learn And don't be surprised if the sky's bright and blue And the white bird of Texas comes barreling through
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