The Whistling Song

It's the shadow in the dark it's the silver in the park it's the broken, faded bird you've learned to call your heart it's not a border that you can see just as plain as you or me i can't throw the lock back and i don't have the key it hovers in the living room just above the door it whistles while it hangs there feathers dripping from every pore they show the spectacle of falling and settle to the floor