Peter Hammill - The birds

^FSpring ^Ccame far too e^Dmarly this year: ^FMay flo^Cwers blooming ^Dmin February ^FShould I be ^Csad for the month Or ^Dmglad for the sky? ^FThe birds don't know which ^Cway to sing And, my ^Dmfriend ^CNeither do ^DmI

^FTwo days ^Cago, a girl I ^Dmtruly thought I loved ^FSuddenly ^Cdidn't seem to ^Dmmatter at all ^FShould I sing ^Csad farewell ^DmTo things I'm really glad I've left behind? ^FThe birds don't know which ^Cway to sing And, my ^Dmfriend ^CNeither do ^DmI

^FIn anothe^Cr day, heavy s^Dmnow will lie upon the ground ^FAnd buds ^Cprematurely bloomed ^Dmshall fail; ^FAnd every creature living ^Cnow ^DmThen will surely die... ^FThe birds don't know which ^Cway to sing And, my ^Dmfriend ^CNeither do ^DmI

^FThe birds don't know if it's ^Ctime ^Dmyet to fly; ^FThey don't know which ^Cway to go And, my f^Dmriend ^CNeither do ^DmI