Me and John lying in bed
And on the train tracks is a
Groan and shriek
A metaphor for rambling

O, that whistle sounds like Holly
O, that whistle sounds like John
O, that whistle sounds like going
O, that whistle sounds like gone

Me and John lying in bed
And on the tracks is a dying away
And on the ceiling are familiar shapes
The moon makes

O, that whistle like my mother's voice
O, that whistle like a charge
O, that whistle sounds like running
O, that whistle sounds like God

Me and John lying in bed
And in our minds are separate thoughts
And in our heads
And in our hearts
A metaphor for getting lost

"Oh, that whistle,"
Whispered softly
"Oh, that whistle,"
He agrees
With a quiet understanding
With a nod
O, that whistle calling
As our lives are getting gone

Standing in the darkened garage
I listen to the whistling winter air
And think of times so long ago
And of one who is not there

My Grand dad was a whistler
No matter what he did
Whether reading, sitting, standing still
Whistling is what he did

He told me once the secret was
To purse your lips and blow
It took me years to figure out
But the secret I now know

No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around

Chopin, List, John Lennon
It didn't matter one **** bit
He would whistle what was in his head
And I would listen and I'd sit

Grandad could make music
No matter where he was
His whistle made him special
At least, special to us

No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around

The wind sounds high and vicious
As I listen through the door
It's a sound Grandad made daily
It's a sound I hear no more

A simple act of moving air
Across one's lips is all
But Grandad could translate it
Into a wild birds call

No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around.