Suzanne Vega — Portrait of the Knight of Wands

He stood upon the last Bastions of the place Looked out on the ruins With thunder in his face An introverted spectacle In the flowers on the rocks The daises on the ramparts blowing free His heart was divided Clouds gathered in the sky The belfry made of wood and steel Was silenced in its cry Something must have happened But what, he wouldn't say Shown within the wider lens of history His mission The transmission Of technology One cannon trained upon the church This one caught his eye To keep the bishop in his place He muttered with a sigh His mood was melancholy His attitude severe His inner burdens weighed upon him mightily A bird as never seen in books Flew in overhead A kind of dove it might have been But not a sound was said All the ancient knowledge lay In pieces on the ground The cause of all his suffering was not for love of me His mission The transmission Of technology