There's a gap in the wall covered by ferns There's a place where a child comes to learn In the simulated setting sun You can see some of the real one From the sleek, weaving motion of a mind Comes the wake of a slip and slow in time And I heard the kestrels beating on the cage And I saw the prisoners begging for a way This portalistic history is madness to us now Molecules are chaos, but they form a face, somehow Weeping brings no justice on the day the crowds go up If justice comes too late for some, can we still call it just? If the bird does nothing, it will fall It is madly weeping for us all In the prophetic gaze of a child Death is furious, life is wild