A lonely pigeon in a gutter pool,
It’s his dreary domain where he can rule,
Too small to allow another within,
Too small to swim or something else to do,
Solitary domain for one not two.

Sparrows sing on perches from which they fly,
But pigeon cowers as buses rush by,
Caught in the swirls of diesel tainted wind,
Caught in the destruction of his domain,
No where to rule till the next city rain