The Fly Song

I’m a fly, I fly high
In the sky, like a bird
But with hundreds of eyes
Minus the feathers
I pick things up
And I put them down
Like the seeds of the tree
That grew up from the ground
Until you came around
You cut them down
You built your house
You kicked me out
And oh what a way to live
Running from things
Like rolled up magazines
And little boys with
Junior scientist sets
'Cause they’ll smash
My fly body all over the glass
They’ll cut off my wings
If they’re given the chance
In many ways
The grown-ups are worse
'Cause they’re too lazy
To do their own dirty work
They call pest control
They spray chemicals
That make me wheeze
And they kill my babies
And oh what a way to go
You and I
We are so much the same
Though I know that’s not something
You’re ready to face
We just want somewhere
That we can stay
'Till we grow old, grow old
'Till we grow old, grow old
'Till I grow old, grow old
'Till we grow old, grow old
Which in my case
Is two days away