Birdhead

Get your birdhead out of my face! I might smack you if you don't. Hey birdhead, you've got breath like an old pair of boots and I don't like the look on your face. Oh birdhead, let's pick apart the carcass of a dead bird killed on the road by a passing truck that was bound for a small town in the mountains. I wonder what thoughts are in your head? I wonder why I only see you in public and why my bedroom is birdhead proof. Oh birdhead, is it true what they say? That the world isn't waiting for you or for me and the only way forward is on the same road that everyone else is going on? Birdhead, you're not modern art and you're not simple and you don't make sense. I feel lost and violent and I don't know what to do with my thousands of weapons and legions of troops. Should I command them to bomb a poor desert country or a poor jungle country or a poor mountain country? Oh birdhead, I love you so much!