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Trapped up in my keeper's room, the pride of the circus tent Brought there for my safety, to hide among the made-up beds Outside magic filled the carefree eastern streets I could feel a stomach churn beneath the polished teak They all dressed as swallows with feathers in their hair And all that night they laughed and danced While the walls shook the gas chandeliers I trumpeted and I roared, but no one seemed to hear Shoulder blades beneath the water slid closer every year Men in suits proudly talked of the pointed peak Pillars of flames built armies who were hungry and had to eat They all dressed as swallows and songbirds bearing gifts And I could feel it in my bones Something out there somewhere had to give Narrows canals no longer flow, and nothing happens here And even in the afterlife an elephant can't forget Skull and bones of a Bengal tiger wash in the sea A reminder of that August night when the Island disappeared They all dressed as swallows and songbirds on that eve Falls of ashes pouring down as the ocean turned into a milk-white sea |
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