Every time the bird [bad word] 
He flies over neath the bridge
He swoops down low and picks me up
And carries me over the ridge

But somehow I discovered his game
And he no longer seems to fly
Anymore that way

Clever fellow, isn't he?
Yes, very clever

But for now I find it hard
To reason with myself
And just in case I can't conceive
Of anybody else

I tried and tried to make it clear
That what I want is not real at all

What kind of joint is this?

The time [bad word] for me to see
Just how much it means to me
To tell someone of what went on
Now that the bird man's gone

Even though you'll find it strange
All along the bird man really was me