*by Charles Bukowski* >there's a bluebird in my heart that >wants to get out >but I'm too tough for him, >I say, stay in there, I'm not going >to let anybody see >you. >there's a bluebird in my heart that >wants to get out >but I pour whiskey on him and inhale >cigarette smoke >and the whores and the bartenders >and the grocery clerks >never know that >he's >in there. > >there's a bluebird in my heart that >wants to get out >but I'm too tough for him, >I say, >stay down, do you want to mess >me up? >you want to screw up the >works? >you want to blow my book sales in >Europe? >there's a bluebird in my heart that >wants to get out >but I'm too clever, I only let him out >at night sometimes >when everybody's asleep. >I say, I know that you're there, >so don't be >sad. >then I put him back, >but he's singing a little >in there, I haven't quite let him >die >and we sleep together like >that >with our >secret pact >and it's nice enough to >make a man >weep, but I don't >weep, do >you?