A lone oak?s branches point, anon
Straight upward toward Avalon
Here an angel?s draped in checkered blues
Donning bellbottom pants and platform shoes
Uniquely fashioned by God?s own hand
Set on Earth, elevated above man

The air was filled with the buzzing of bees
Eclipsing the bunches of dying weeds
A blue bird ends his tiring search
The wing of the angel was his perch
The blue bird struck a sour tune
But that never stopped this persistent loon
The golden honey inspired his show
Giving the mustard seed room to grow

The legionnaires swarmed the park
The grounds have fallen from their once high mark
At the center strutted the impish liar
One hand bore a red band, the other held fire
They cried against the path of gold
The wind turned crisp, the air grew cold

And onto her finger he slipped the band of red
Now the box was open, thundering over head
Gales of augury sent the blue bird into flight
Embracing his inevitable blight; no one else was to blame
Leaving the blue bird to the liar?s flame
All of the final plans were laid, leaving the golden bricks decayed

The honey sat there hard on the comb
The bees fled far from their home
And the angel is gone ?cause she?s draped in red
From the flats of her feet to the top of her head
No longer the sinless one who sat in the park
She has now fallen from her once high mark
But the liar is set in his final place of rest
And on the tombstone sits the blue bird?s nest
Now the bird has vengeance of another kind
For from the mound sprouts a mustard vine