I know nothing of Nightingales;
Their sweetened songs
That swell to their might
In the gathering dark

I know nothing of revolt,
Of its triumphant banners;
How they’re charred and maimed
When a nation is born

I know nothing at all;
Sailing through a pitch black void
Without a voice
Without a name
Without a source

Free to take off
In any vessel I graze,
Or to mindlessly stall,
Unloved in the abyss