And high above, Homing in the restless sky, Rooks, melancholy, proclaim a schism between God, sacred, and the Crown, profane Between the heavens and the King The dark horizon cracks a crooked grin, Admitting one small grain of change Then two, then four, then bit by bit, Then tock by tick All the old presumptions hove in rings The King is afraid that his kingdom is slipping away The Queen pines for the good times at Versailles He works on his locks to the sound of the ticking of clocks The children play in a garden that's ringed with steel They wanted to visit St. Cloud to be able to Breathe in the air The National Guard forbad them to leave