Before you say I'm crazy, I have pictures that will tell
Don't call me chicken little, as I go to ring the bell
The images are frightening, the attacks are all too real
I'm afraid to go outside now, lest I become their meal
And so I beg my mother, don't make me go to school today
Of course she will not listen, and so I'm on my way
I approach the campus listening, to the sound of many birds
The whistling and chirping, I can't quite put in words
But I'm sure that they are plotting, and planning something big
Whatever they are up to; it has to do with twigs
My class mates are oblivious and walk beneath the trees
I stay out in the open, where they can't sneak up on me
I've heard stories of my uncle attacked by ducks and geese
My father bombed by black birds, just walking down the streets
His car was one day covered by Anhingas on the raid
I guess we fished their lake that day, and that's the price we paid
I see it more and more now, from birds of every type
But no one likes my stories, they say its all just hype
- Calvin "Cheese Grits" Yerke