• He sits on my sill puffing his pipe,
    and sings me a song I know not.
    He sits on my sill puffing his pipe,
    and flutters his wings with glee.
    I have known him for centuries,
    and he has known me
    And yet we are but strangers,
    in eternity.
    He sits on my sill, puffing his pipe,
    and flutters his wings with glee.
    And here I stand, inside my own sill;
    miserably.
    He puffs his pipe twice and leans over the stars,
    and his feet wave into the night's abyss.
    He puffs his pipe thrice and leans yet more.
    and I lean over my sill and shout for him.
    He laughs, the wildest laugh,
    and tells me to come foward.
    I lean over yet more, and so does he,
    until we sit as strangers
    in eternity.
    He and I sit on my sill, he puffing his pipe,
    and I listening to his song I know not.
    And then his wing lifts, and bows into my back,
    and I fall to the streets with a resounding crack.

    I sit on his sill puffing my pipe,
    and sing him a song he knows not.
    I sit on his sill puffing my pipe,
    and fluttering my wings with glee.
    I have known him for centuries,
    and he has known me.
    And yet we are but strangers
    in eternity.