| When the rooks were laid in the piles 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
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| And he cries Amen, let their kingdom come tonight
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| Let this dream be realized
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| And we’ll sleep until the world of man is paralyzed |