Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The Falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity
And what rough beast, it's hour come 'round at last
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

- Yeats

No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.

-Thompson