Our Words

As we write, we shall write again
With cruel pains and on dark papers
We shall portray again and again
The statue of this once glorious vulture
This rough bird whose rumpled feathers
We are sure will have settled
And with pride we will write again

As we sing today, we will sing again
Songs of joy, comfort and aggression
We shall sing songs of the vulture
That soars into the outer space
And sends his sharp, red eyes
Filled with cruelty, pride, oppression
This perilous prey whose beaks gape
To threaten gentle parrots, swallows
lapwings and even eagles
But we are mindful of one thing
With mockery we will sing again

Yet we won’t praise him again
As his might will finally disappear
But we will write and write and write
To portray the statue of the fallen vulture
And we will sing again and again
Songs of peace, harmony, not compassion
We shall sing about the rising vulture
As he will rise to the sinking bottom
With his dull eyes, closed beaks
To be dethroned by the eagle
Or even by the parrots, swallows, lapwings
So as we praise him today
We won’t praise him again
If we do, then with mockery and ridicule