Where are Jack's sparrows?

The birds outside my window haven't figured out what exactly is their problem—the fact that I'm a human or that they aren't. In either case, they have an upper hand. They can fly away any given time whereas I'll be stuck here in my four-walled cage fondly called home. Besides, nothing can stop these tiny creatures of nuisance from the nature's inimitable gift of chirping; especially during dawn. They tell us something but we don't get it. Our syntax differs. But they won't give up until we learn whatever they are trying to teach us. Meanwhile, they love to mock us. Don't know how but the early morning somehow always appears hilarious to them. Perfect harmony results between the empty sky and the boisterous little fellas. And they just can't stop laughing at our world and then follow the act with an item number. At which point, these brownish toys realize that they have a khi-khi-khi song to sing in chorus and move their tail in accordance with their bony wings. What a marvelous sight! Katrina can learn something from them. For instance, dance like there's no YouTube. One more admirable aspect is their utter outspokenness. They don't even defer to pigeons and crows of the city. Adaptation is one thing and adoption, totally another. Maybe this is also the reason why sparrows don't welcome the sun like they once used to. The language remains unlearned and the lessons, untouched. Time is running out and they are flying away. Perhaps the beloved sparrows too have left for the wild fleeing this doomed city.