Into the sound and the silence

One needs a certain armour
To walk down the city streets
One cannot simply walk in favour
Of every citizen he meets

It is not hard to see them
The hard men in their throngs
Doing good when they're told too
The other times doing wrong

There are sweet doves waiting
Like sparrows in the roof
Holding on to each belfry
Like a lawyer hold onto truth

And belying the bellyful of sorrow
That emptiness leaves in their stomach
Between their toes are the nest of crows
Who wing their way to the pulpit

Sitting in their black attire
They hold counsel there
The wise men of the city
The true parliament of the lair

What would they say to corruption?
Squawk and then say no more
Because silence bellies destruction
Like the dying corpse of a whore

Judging by their numbers
The ravens sing the score
And all in Corvin negyed join them
The black hearts of the poor