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The Cuckoo

de The Holy Modal Rounders

If you want to be a bird
Why don't you try a little flying
There's no denying
It gets you high
Why be shackled to your feet
When you've got wings
You haven't used yet
Don't wait for heaven
Get out and fly

Just glide there
Through the clear air
Making figure eights
Through the pearly gates
Where the soul and the universe meet

If you want to be a bird
It won't take much
To get you up there
But when you come down
Land on your feet

Off we go into the wild blue yonder
Flying high into the sun
Off they roar, zooming to meet our thunder
'Attaboy, give 'em the gun
Down we dive, spouting out flames from under
Off with one helluva roar
We live in fame, go down in flames
But nothing can stop the Army Air Corps

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