Ostriches of Edgewood

Ostriches of Edgewood
By James Pullen

Lyrics
...
[spoken word]
yeah
this is Pullenboy Music.

*(Verse 1)*
In the misty valleys of British Columbia's wild,
Where the Fraser River whispers secrets to the child,
Stood Universal Ostrich, a farm of dreams so grand,
With three hundred feathered giants striding 'cross the land.
Tall as kings with necks that reached for heaven's blue,
They danced in dusty circles, under skies so true.
But shadows fell one December, when the flu came callin' low,
Two birds fell silent, and the government's dark hand did show.

*(Chorus)*
Oh, the ostriches of Edgewood, with eyes like polished stone,
They buried 'em in tarps under a cold and lonesome moon.
Three-fourteen souls, gunned down by marksmen in the night,
Healthy hearts still beatin', but stolen from the light.
What secrets did they hold? Immunity in their veins?
Or just a tale of overreach, wrapped in bureaucratic chains?
Rest easy, mighty wanderers, your story shakes the ground,
The people's fury rises where your feathers hit the mound.

*(Verse 2)*
The Pasitneys fought fierce, with lawyers and with pleas,
Katie screamed at fences, Karen dropped to tearful knees.
RFK from the south, with his voice like thunder's roar,
Begged the courts for mercy, to study, not to war.
Dr. Oz offered ranches, billionaires sent their gold,
Protesters with horns and signs, in the winter's biting cold.
Drones in the sky, they whispered, lasers from above,
Conspiracies like wildfires, fueled by doubt and love.
But the CFIA stood firm, with their "stamping out" decree,
Avian flu's a phantom, but it locked the killing spree.

*(Chorus)*
Oh, the ostriches of Edgewood, with eyes like polished stone,
They buried 'em in tarps under a cold and lonesome moon.
Three-fourteen souls, gunned down by marksmen in the night,
Healthy hearts still beatin', but stolen from the light.
What secrets did they hold? Immunity in their veins?
Or just a tale of overreach, wrapped in bureaucratic chains?
Rest easy, mighty wanderers, your story shakes the ground,
The people's fury rises where your feathers hit the mound.

*(Bridge)*
No more thunder of their feet on the earth they claimed as home,
Just echoes in the silence, where the wild winds freely roam.
From convoy ghosts of '22, the skeptics gathered 'round,
Blaring rock anthems defiant, on that unholy ground.
They say the birds were warriors, survivors of the plague,
Eggs with hidden antibodies, a cure the suits would snag.
But hazmat ghosts in dawn's gray light carted bodies to the pit,
A landfill grave for legends—oh, what a bitter fit.

*(Verse 3)*
Now the farm lies empty, fines and debts like chains that bind,
Karen's Facebook lament: "Rest in peace, my feathered kind."
The world watched in horror, from BBC to Daily Mail's cry,
A symbol of the madness, where the powerful don't ask why.
Ostriches, you runners of the savanna's endless plain,
Your blood stains the policy, your loss ignites the flame.
We'll sing of your defiance, 'gainst the machine that grinds us small,
In the ballad of the fallen, where the mighty giants fall.

*(Outro)*
Oh, the ostriches of Edgewood... gone but never tamed,
Their spirits sprint forever, in the wild where they're unchained.
Three-fourteen voices silenced, but the song will never die—
For the birds that shook the empire, under freedom's angry sky.