Never trust a bird’s song
they shed their feathers
and grow bald
drop from the skies
and die at your feet
they are a poet’s favourite past time
larks and ravens
deceiftful
in their misery
and their flight.
Bird’s song
haunts a shadow city
Never trust a bird’s song
they shed their feathers
and grow bald
drop from the skies
and die at your feet
they are a poet’s favourite past time
larks and ravens
deceiftful
in their misery
and their flight.
A heathen poet 