I met these ghost-birds
Who died in the Maltese skies
Lies
Lies
Lies
Lies
They told me nothing but lies
The silver knights
In their coloured cloaks
They told me lies
Lies
Lies
Lies
Nothing but lies
These were the observations
Of my teachers dead
Well read
But dead
Dead
Dead
Well read
But dead
Dead as the migrating birds
That passed silently
Fleeting
Sleeping
Often weeping
Sleeping
I saw these birds
Perched on the masts
Of the final ships
Alive
In this land of sand
Land
Sand
Land
Sand
Alive in this land of sand