My shrieking yell for priceless ticket

I have a parrot in the woods

The talking parrot squawks to the ears of an angel

But he does not make noise

The cacophony of his moan, is a call to my love

A call that demands responds and presence at all times.

In the forests, the parrot talks plenty

But only to sing a melody to an angel of substance to his master

He spends all his time to talk about my love; the love of his master

And makes the heart of them melts

Melt to the grounds of my chest.

In the rain, the parrot grumbles aloud

He calls his friends and loved ones to join him sing

To warble melodies that sends my heart to a bottomless sleep

For his voice becomes deep like the depth of a valley in the peninsula

The neck of the land where my heart begins to find itself.

But my lost heart has not been found

My parrot has always shouted aloud

The distance becomes the pain in my neck

For she still can’t hear my piercing call and my parrot is about dying of age

Whilst my grieving heart sobs in pain and tears and yells for my priceless ticket.