The air seems to be full of magpies
chattering like bingo players in a union hall
That coarse sandpaper sound
Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh. Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh. Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh-wranch.
As if they bear the burden of awakening the world
And are bound and determined to do just that
Until we all dutifully arise
Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh
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