Text: Esperanza Spalding. Chamber Music Society. Little Fly.

Little fly
The summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away

Am not I
A fly like thee
Or art not thou
A man like me
Little fly

For I dance
And drink and sing
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing


I thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death
Little fly

Then am I
A happy fly
If I live
Or if I die