The bun was warm
Round and tasty
I put it away
When a white dove
Landed on my palm
And it pecked me
First on my head then my chest
When I slowly pull it away
Both the white dove and the bun
I heard the music stopped
My restless self made another plea
But the dove won't come
And the bun grew cold
So I got up to leave
I want no bun and no dove
Just let it be
