Joey the Canary

Tossed and scrambled in a cage some sixteen miles below. I attempted sending
codes, but only ghosts reply, and it’s cramped in here. Though the
freezer’s packed with a hundred crates of beer, it won’t wash away my tears, my fear. Considered writing novels. I thought hard about this
career, solved a dozen famous mysteries, but still I can’t be clear if there is anybody up there, perhaps it’s been a year. Is there still
anybody up there? No fear. Is there anybody up there, was you ever
there at all?(x4)