“Babel”
I fly above the men below
Who’s backs all bend with years of woe.
I warn them they should build no more,
I cry for them while high I soar.
And yet the men work straight on through
While Heaven’s anger starts to brew.
So once again I send my word
But I don’t think that I’ve been heard.
Or maybe yes, but they know naught
As now the tower starts to rot.
It’s too late now, for though they heard
Man cannot understand my word.
