Hooded Hawks - Mook

Hooded hawks in the night, perched on city stoops

Still as silence in the dark, killers of the avenue

The tempest bird with his shrill is blinded by his broken will

The quiet scream of death ignites the oil sky

Creation sounds the people switch their menaced faces

Like pigeons in feeding circles that are the same in all places

With cynical eye, I, hooded hawk swoop a deadly descent into darkness 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