Hooded Hawks in the night, perched on city stoopsnStill as silence in the dark, killers of the avenuenThe tempest bird with his shrill is blinded by his broken willnThe quite scream of death ignites the oil skynnCreation sums the people switch their menace facesnLike pigeons in feeding circles that are the same in all placesnWith cynical eye I heard a hawk swoop, a deadly decent into garbage and sootnAnd the quite scream of death ignites the oil skynnI am lost anthem from falling from the skynBut like a hooded hawk I'm in the night waiting to dienI am lost anthem from falling from the skynBut like a hooded hawk in the night