Falcon:
People, as a man to you I cannot speak
My glory is one of wing and not of feet
I am a falcon, a hunter and a liege
I bring you a message
From the animals to the beasts
You are the children
You are the innocent
And the deadly too
In the things you do
Listen to the dying cry of the timber wolf
A shadow of the d**h of man as well
This choke-damp air is upon us
All other species grieve
While man "The Thinker" thinks of games
That turn this Earth to hell
You are the parvenue
It is a part of you
So why defend it with your powers?
Soon all these things you see
All of life's mysteries will be gone by you
Perhaps this hour
Spectator 1:
Maybe he speaks of a fantasy
Spectator 2:
More likely some machine in his chest
Is playing a tape from some data bank
An amusement designed for our heads
Falcon:
Fools, fools you are
All of you fools, fools you are
Narrator:
There's a cold grey sky in the morning
White mist on mountains glazed
Sun slanting shafts through evergreen's cones
Where dew in colours dance
Peace sleep here, in warmed gra**es
Peace belong, where love's the way
In forest's retreat, where soft waters beat
And oceans caress gentle seas
The stories are kept, in waiting perhaps
For the children to outgrow their play
Play, children to outgrow their play