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When the rooks were laid in the piles |
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By the sides of the road |
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Crashing into the aerials |
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Tangled in the laundry lines |
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And gathered in a field |
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They were burned in a feathering pyre |
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With their cold black eyes |
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When the swallows fell from the eaves |
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And the gulls from the spires |
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The starlings, in millions |
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Would feed on the ground where they lie |
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The ambulance men said |
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There's nowhere to flee for your life |
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So we stay inside |
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And we'll sleep until the world of man is paralyzed |
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Oh, the falconer awakes to the sound of the bells |
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Overhead and southbound |
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They are leaving his life |
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And each empty cage just rings in his heart like a bell |
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Underneath these cold stars |
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In this trembling light, and he cries |
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Amen, let their kingdom come tonight |
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Let this dream be realized |
