The hawk is afraid
Flying high in the sky
The trees cleared
The people marching in
Like the dragons of folklore
The people cut them to oblivion
The hawk knows his mathematics
The decades of greed and corruption
Now the empty boxes
There is no gift to share
The groundwork cleared
The grease of mismanagement
The new shoots will grow
The hawk meanwhile will fall
Of lack of nutrition
Of lack of places to hide
It's the end of an era
So will be the mongrels too
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