'Do you mean the attack is routine?'
   a bird asked of a bird
   'In this context, a concave nest,
   how do we learn to hurt?'
  
   'do you mean there's no variation?'
   watching a dog charge a flock
   of birds exploding in congregation
   "Why plan when' when we stop?"
  
   'I dunno...but why suppose
   it's not the way it should be?
   when you can fly above the great waiting list,
   as the grow inplies we won't be missed,
   we can
   leave
   we can
   leave
   we can
   leave.
  
   It's a routine flight for this bird tonight
   there's more worms than earth
   in the afterlife
   where the blind feed the blind,
   whispering things like;
   'On the money' and 'Bullseye'
   she picks up the little leaves
   where human wrecks are left to seed
   left to repaint their deities
   and plaster away at their villainies
   where there's love
   there's hope
  
   'and do you hope those earthbound poets
   could learn to sing as good as us?
   so we can sit back and enjoy our illusions
   and our quietus?'
  
   'Well I don't now...but why suppose it's
   not the way it should be?
   when you can squawk and wait for word from above
   and change yourself into something you love
   when you
   leave
   when you
   leave
   you leave?