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 northbound, 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.”