Hooded hawks in the night, perched on city stoops Still in silence, in the dark, killers of the avenue The tempest bold with his shrill is blinded by his broken will The quiet scream of death Ignites the oil sky Creation songs that people switch their menaced faces Like pigeons in feeding circles they are the same in all places With cynical eyes, I hooded hawk swoop, a deadly decent into garbage and soot And the quiet scream of death Ignites the oil sky I am lost and forgotten, falling from the sky Like a hooded hawk in the night, waiting to die I am lost and forgotten, falling from the sky Like a hooded hawk in the night...