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A wise bird, wiser than the west

It blend beak of voice and a beacon afar

Deftly blending clouds with feathers

Spread over wicked continents

Which is shifting opinions as in tectonic plates

Continent of men, clouds of winged meanings

Drifting oceans, Dithering wings

They meet in swarms and grooves

In a season of stealth and drones

No one wants an yellow messenger

That whispers to the wind, vividly

It could tilt and slope, incline and invade

The valley of vultures and other dreaded signs

No one want an yellow messenger

That could see beyond the tropic clouds

That could foretell the origin of nemesis

That could groove vision in your timid eyes

That bridges light unto your iris canals

No one want an yellow messenger

That carves blissful voices in your yellow belles

Bile is bile, vile is vile, primate is primate and so is the Continental drift