Turning and turning within the widening gyre   The falcon cannot hear the falconer   Things fall apart, the center cannot hold   And a blood dimmed tide is loosed upon the world      Nothing is sacred, the ceremony sinks   Innocence is drowned in anarchy   The best lack conviction, given some time to think   And the worst are full of passion without mercy      Surely some revelation is at hand   Surely it's the second coming   And the wrath has finally taken form   For what is this rough beast?   It's hour come at last      Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born   Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born, oh oh yeah   To be born, oh oh oh yeah      Hoping and hoping as if by my weak faith   The spirit of this world would heal and rise   Vast are the shadows that straddle and strafe   And struggle in the darkness troubling my eyes      Shaped like a lion, it has the head of a man   With a gaze as blank and pitiless as the sun   And it's moving its slow thighs across the desert sands   Through dark indignant, reeling falcons      Surely some revelation is at hand   Surely it's the second coming   And the wrath has finally taken form   For what is this rough beast?   It's hour come at last      Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born   Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born, oh oh yeah   To be born, hey Bethlehem, shape of a lion      Raging and raging, it rises from the deep   Opening its eyes after twenty centuries   Vexed to a nightmare, out of a stony sleep   By a rocking cradle, by the sea of Galilee      Surely some revelation is at hand   Surely it's the second coming   And the wrath has finally taken form   For what is this rough beast?   It's hour come at last      Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born   Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born, oh oh yeah   To be born, hey Bethlehem, shape of a lion, oh oh   Just the shape of a lion, oh oh   Hey Bethlehem, shape of a lion