when the rooks were laid in the piles nby the sides of the road,nthey were crashing into the aerials,nhanging from the laundry lines.nand, gathered in a field,nthey were burned in a feathering pyre,nwith their cold, black eyes.nnwhen the swallows fell from the eaves,nand the gulls from the spires,nthe starlings, in millions,nwould feed on the ground where they lie.nand the ambulance men saidnthere's nowhere to flee for your life,nso we stay inside,nand we'll sleep until the world of man is paralyzed.nnoh, the falconer awakes to the sound of the bells.noverhead, and northbound,nthey are leaving his life.nand each empty cage just rings in his heartnlike a bell,nunderneath these cold stars,nin their trembling light.nand he criesnamen, let their kingdom come tonight.nlet this dream be realized.