Today I found a dead bird Crushed into the realbland clay Brittle bones like snapped twigs Velvet for the scurrying things I cross myself, forlorn you lie Scraped and drossed by the wind Savaged by the tyres and tossed in the tar Broken on the English dirt A carcass for the carrion crow And for the beaks that peck Flesh beneath my flesh Soil beneath my soil Today I found a dead bird Blind are the brokers and the unskilled workers Blind are the brokers and the unskilled workers Your wings beneath their wheels Your wings beneath their wheels Blind are the brokers and the unskilled workers Blind are the brokers and the unskilled workers Your bones beneath their heels Today I found a dead bird