Like a wounded bird trying to fly Surrounded by green fern, still a cozy and scenic place to die Lately I've been flying high, then I guess I had to crash Always did I love that I love that line But never did I apply it to myself 'til just then On the corner of our camping site, there's an entrance there to the woods Watch my kids there as they play While me, I'ma just pick away on a red Fender Palomino guitar for a change My daddy was a railroad man, imagine all the miles of steel He rode along his whole life long Now I just put that in a song My mother, she would mend our wounds while he was out along the track Maybe try and clip our wings Well, I remember everything Like the red feather wingspan of some great majestic bird Come flying over the horizon Above a field of birds of paradise [?] Or was it real? Or was it just a dream? Or was it real or just a dream? Just a dream Whew Like a wounded bird trying to fly Surrounded by some trees in a cozy scenic place Wish the world would stop and take notice of all the disgrace But then breathe in quite deep and smell all the flowers while in bloom Like a wounded bird trying to fly Well, my daughter, she wrote that line So copyright Awilda Vile Like a wounded bird trying to fly Like a wounded bird trying to fly Trying to fly Trying to fly