Did you meet the bird of stone?
The one sat, await the grass to grow?
Does he fear the hollow within?
As he is only plaster thin?

And did you meet his grass?
The one too weak to grow?
Cells too thin; light too strong.
The kind that doesn't get too far...
You know, not good like you or I.

He's ok, he's just not meant for where he is;
Rootbound by concrete enclosure.
In full view of the sun, and away from the wind.
That's where he wants to be.

Who knows, he could be king given the right conditions.
'Tis a shame he's stuck there,
 In permanent view of that stone bird.
Given a chance to blink, I bet he wouldn't.

But given a chance to kill,
I bet that grass, he would.
Weak, and drab, and angry.
I bet he's got more fight in him than you'd know.

"My bet's on the duck, Richard."