Tonight the birds are watching me.
Do they have more important things to do?
What of hearts in diamonds?
Oh, I don't understand.

Into maxim's we will see them walk.
Will they eat a piece of cheese or will they talk?
When they're loud enough, we can hear their words.
By night we are inquisitory birds.

Some nights we are asked if we ever tire
Of gazing at their heels and everyday desires.
Remember every dewy tale written of their loves?
Compare them to the ones they touch in front of us.

We do not dance a story for you.
Gil blas bored whispers awakening the beasts in me.
Go! Find your feet.
Drink some blood.
Say it to my face.
If you want to be starting something.