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