This is one of my favorite songs. https://fnfgo.io
The finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney
What remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect
But the yoke isn't easy, in fact it's a drag
Acid blown to cornfields and mountains of rice
All over the suburbs, across the great lawns
And they're crop dusting gardens all over this town
But nobody cares when it gets in their hair
It gets in their lungs as it floats through the air
It gets in the food that they buy and prepare
But nobody cares when it gets in their hair
Across the great chasms and the schisms and the sudden aneurysms
Where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eyes
And your teeth are worth more than you can spare
Oh, don't tell me that it just isn't fair
Don't speak about the cycles of life
'Cause your thoughts are so soft
I could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife
And the wine made our minds too loose
A reckless choice of words
And you tell me that I'm too abstruse
I just thought I was a kind of bird
I swear I just stood there not saying a word
Not saying a word, not saying a word
What remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect
But the yoke isn't easy, in fact it's a drag
Acid blown to cornfields and mountains of rice
All over the suburbs, across the great lawns
And they're crop dusting gardens all over this town
But nobody cares when it gets in their hair
It gets in their lungs as it floats through the air
It gets in the food that they buy and prepare
But nobody cares when it gets in their hair
Across the great chasms and the schisms and the sudden aneurysms
Where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eyes
And your teeth are worth more than you can spare
Oh, don't tell me that it just isn't fair
Don't speak about the cycles of life
'Cause your thoughts are so soft
I could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife
And the wine made our minds too loose
A reckless choice of words
And you tell me that I'm too abstruse
I just thought I was a kind of bird
I swear I just stood there not saying a word
Not saying a word, not saying a word
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This has been one of my favorite songs lately. Although the stories above are believable and there are several good comments so far ("spare-ohs" and the yolk reference), I think that there is a lot more to this song.
I think his personal experience with the chickens starts if off. He rolls the story of the fallen chickens and ubiquitous feathers into the lines "all over the suburbs / across the great lawns / crop-dusting gardens all over this town" which are fairly clear commentaries on modern suburbia and people's general lack of care about the blanketing of foliage with chemicals and the plight of animals (such as chickens). This is probably connected to the his "greeness" as describe above, and also he seems to be saying that the burden of the event ("the yolk is a drag") weighs on him as he is reminded of it by the feathers that fall all over the town that no one seems to mind.
The second verse seems to be a conversation in which he relates the severity of his experience with the chickens to someone else, saying that they don't understand what he is saying, to the point of them being seperated by "great chasms and schisms" including that which lies within (through the crespice of the eyes), and that the listener's response is either simple or naive: "don't speak about the cycles of life / 'cause your thoughts are so soft / I could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife", as if to say that there is no substance to the words he receives in response.
The he follows with more bird references, which seem to refer to himself -- his name is Andrew Bird afterall, and the reference at the end "when you tell me that I'm too obstruce / I just thought it was a kind of bird" probably reflects a lot of his personal experiences being different/creative and having people say strange things to him, as if to say "what did you say about me? Are you saying that I'm a "strange bird" somehow? To which he follows "I just stood there not saying a word" which describes the exasperation one has in the situation -- having just related something intense and personal all he gets in response is the comment that he's a little weird.
The finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney what remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect
but their yolk isn't easy in fact it's a drag as they're blowing through cornfields and mountains of rags
all over the suburbs across the great lawns crop-dusting gardens all over this town
but nobody cares when it gets in their hair it gets in their lungs as it floats through the air it gets in the food that they buy and prepare but nobody cares when it gets in their hair
across the great chasms and schisms and the sudden aneurisms where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eyes and your teeth are worth more than you can spare- -oh don't tell me that it just isn't fair don't speak about the cycles of life 'cause your thoughts are so soft I could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife
and the wine made our mouths too loose such a reckless choice of words when you tell me that I'm too obstruce I just thought it was a kind of bird I just stood there not saying a word x 3