I did a version of this years ago on mixter. Changed some of the cello and added a few vocal twists. A tribute to everyone who has felt the urge towards inexpressible freedom.

Lyrics:
Language Of Birds

On the wall in your bedroom
An antique etching framed
‘twas of the sea… a bright moon…on the wane.
An island resting in the inky night…’rose from a sea of foam
a distant flock of birds in flight…
made one feel…quite alone.

After the winter
And your quiet retreat
When the Spring had melted
All the snow on your street…
And a mourning dove cried on the garden lawn
I found your letter and knew you’d gone….

“Dear Tom,
How often have you heard my words?
I hear the language of the birds…
How, like them, I needed to be let out of the cage.”
There was a little drawing on the second page…
A tiny sketch of the sea and the moon…
And island floating in a graphite night…
Your signature in curly-Q’s
Like a flock of birds in flight….