Miss Byrd

The sign says I’m miss byrd, and that’s my name.
I’m one of those people who all look the same.
At work I’m hardly seen, I come and go
But I know something that people don’t know.

Everyone that sees me thinks that I’m that dull miss byrd
I could blow that myth apart, but I don’t say a word.
I sit here at my desk, and no one knows
Not twenty minutes ago I was not wearing clothes.

I was in someone’s arms; in someone’s bed
Oh what the thought of it does to my head!

If it’s true a bird makes music when the heart takes wing,

This bird is singing.
Miss byrd is singing.
I’m singing “I’m in love”
But I’m not saying a thing.

Down in apartment a, the super’s aptly named
Last week I went to the basement more hour than I claimed.
He say’s I’m super too, he calls me hot
I show those basement apartments a lot.

Back at work I’m crisp and fresh, reliable miss byrd
Seals are dancing in my flesh, but I don’t say a word.

I’m showing penthouse c, as I begin,
I still feel his hands sliding over my skin.
My nipples start to throb, inside my bra,
That’s when I start to go la da di da.

If you’ve never felt the lift a little lunch can bring
This bird is singing,
Miss bryd is singing,
I’m singing “I’m on fire”
But I’m not saying a thing.

(Jazz lib)

This is a floor through five,
I call it more a six,
The broken kitchenette tiles they will fix

Lots of girls who first seem shy have secrets I have found.
If you think I’m special, I
Suggest you look around.

The little office temp, who seems so dumb
How come a trip to mcdonalds is making her hum?
And mrs. Smith in sales, who’s turning grey
Why is she smiling that curious way?

If it’s true the drabbest song birds
Come alive in spring,
The birds are singing
Miss byrd is singning,
I’m singing “I’m in love”
But I’m not saying a thing.