Poeme : Not Hard For A Bird

I was tired in my bed
I stretched to look out of the door
There was a big guy
Offering me blue birds
He said the chances double
When you have one of them
I never knew where he came from
But i took these precious birds

So i went in the direction
Where i could listen to them
Away from cars and sounds
And they said : I am tired in your hands
Like it was’nt funny, like it was not interesting
To be with a guy like me
To be right here with me

It’s not enough to breath and eat
We must drink our love
And eat our feelings
And its good like hell

These birds they are protecting me
From the others, from the events
But not from myself
Not from what we can think when we are alone
When we don’t pray
When we are afraid, of being us
Of being something we know we must be
It’s hard
But not for a bird
Why should it be hard for eaach of us

i was tiʁεd ɛ̃ mi bεd
i stʁεtʃεd to luk u ɔf tə duʁ
təʁə was a biɡ ɡi
ɔfəʁiŋ mə blɥ biʁd
ə sε tə ʃɑ̃sə dublə
wɛ̃ iu-avə ɔnə ɔf tεm
i nəve knεw wəʁə ə kamə fʁɔm
byt i tuk təzə pʁəsjus biʁd

so i wɑ̃ ɛ̃ tə diʁεksjɔ̃
wəʁə i kuld listɛ̃ to tεm
awε fʁɔm kaʁz- ɑ̃d sund
ɑ̃d te sε : i am tiʁεd ɛ̃ iuʁ-ɑ̃
likə it wasεn te fœ̃ni, likə it was no ɛ̃təʁεstiŋ
to bə wit a ɡi likə mə
to bə ʁajt əʁə wit mə

itεs no ɑ̃nuɡ to bʁəat ɑ̃d əa
wə myst dʁɛ̃k uʁ lɔvə
ɑ̃d əa uʁ filiŋ
ɑ̃d its ɡud likə εll

təzə biʁd te aʁə pʁɔtεktiŋ mə
fʁɔm tə ɔtœʁ, fʁɔm tə əvɑ̃
byt no fʁɔm mizεlf
no fʁɔm wa wə kɑ̃ tɛ̃k wɛ̃ wə aʁə alɔnə
wɛ̃ wə dɔnte pʁε
wɛ̃ wə aʁə afʁε, ɔf bɛ̃ɡ ys
ɔf bɛ̃ɡ sɔmεtiŋ wə knɔw wə myst bə
itεs-aʁ
byt no fɔʁ a biʁ
wi ʃuld it bə-aʁ fɔʁ əaak ɔf ys