The birds, the birds, I do decree
They taunt and drop grey shit on me
O you, black one, with yellow eyes
Why stop in time to hear me lie
Upon return from sacred lands
and dark caress from holy hands
Did scorched dry earth your soiled feet tread?
What joy, rebirth, weave of new thread?
Thus spread your new star spangled wings
The mirth of life we now shall sing
In plain sunset doth we proceed
Your winged glory, my tarnished deed.