Metal Feathers, Ghost in the machine

In skies of steel and glass, where shadows crawl, Mechanical birds sing on factory walls. Their bodies, a collage of gears and bone, A tapestry of feathers, flesh, and chrome. They soar on wings of silver, etched and fine, Clockwork hearts beating in an industrial time. Their beaks, of iron forged, sing a metallic song, A hymn to progress, where nature is long gone.