we're living in a roundabout world.
when, you know, the little pigeon in the clock goes cuckoo cuckoo, and then burps, coughing out little wooden birds, with deeper voices than you can imagine. the little wooden birdies grow up to be maestros in cuckoo cuckoo-ing and go on to become little pigeons in clocks that go cuckoo cuckoo every hour. once in a while, a flock of little wooden birds cough out from their beaks. but that's another story.
see how roundabout our world is?