Help You Free Your Little Bird

Baby, it’s OK if you put a bird in a paper bag
and spill out a long, clear vein of moonshine,
the kind from the sky or from the corn,
don’t matter which, and it’s OK if you
whistle for me even when you don’t want me,
you know I’ll come running for you anyway,
help you free your little bird, help you
drink up all the moonshine — the kind
from the sky and the corn.

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