Charles Bukowski - The Girls and the Birds lyrics

The girls were young And worked the Streets But often couldn't Score, they Ended up In my hotel Room 3 or 4 of Them s**ing at the Wine, Hair in face, Runs in Stockings, Cursing, telling Stories… Somehow Those were Peaceful Nights But really They reminded me Of long Ago When I was a boy Watching my gran- Mother's Canaries make Droppings Into their Seed And into their Water And the Canaries were Beautiful And Chattered But Never Sang.