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Swear On My Mama

de The Weather Station

I was woken up in the early morning, after my flight
By a sound I could not grasp, I did not recognize
Running like water, two toned, and tangled
Like a brier holding many sounds all at once

It was a magpie, you told me as you handed me a coffee
The black and white bird you see in city parks
And you pointed out the window, looking straight in at me
A black and white bird sitting on the fence

I thought about the man who called it a magpie
Confronted by the great expanse of his ignorance
He wanted to name it, to detain it forever in that small phrase
It seemed likе a shame to give it a name

But thеn again, I don't understand anything the way I'm supposed to
I drag every river for meaning, scrape my hand on every ceiling
I never know what to say or not say
What to honour or betray in any given day

But I never got used to the sound of the magpie
It set my skin on edge, it called like a child
Like a dog, like the wind caught in a fence
When we talked, it interrupted
And I would never know what it meant

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