Rooks

When the rooks were laid in piles by the sides of the road
They were crashing into the aerials, tangled in the laundry lines
And, gathered in a field, they were burned in a feathering pyre
With their cold, black eyes

When the swallows fell from the eaves, and the gulls from the spires
The starlings, in millions, would feed on the ground where they lie
The ambulance men said “there’s nowhere to flee for your life,”
So we stayed inside
And we’ll sleep until the world of man is paralyzed

Oh, the falconer awakes to the sound of the bells
Overhead, and southbound, they are leaving his life
And each empty cage just rings in his heart like a bell
Underneath these cold stars, in their trembling light
And he cries, “Amen, let their kingdom come tonight, let this dream be realized.”