A gumbol bird is made of stone
And cannot fly a lick
In skies of Earth it quickly sinks,
Its feathers far too thick.
In heavens thin like ours it drowns,
The place is in the trick.

A gumbol bird is made of stone
And soars around the sun.
It stirs a sea of cinnamon
That burns all other ones.
A gumbol glides the living light
Where day is never done.