I see them,
a standing army six million strong.
They are armed
with the weapons of our memory.
On all fronts,
they keep watch, to warn and remind us.
At our call,
they rise from the graveyard of our minds
And advance,
immune to hunger, guns, barbed wire, gas...
Their mission:
to rescue time from its own worst foe.
I know them, the assassins,
by the way they breathe
As they slip behind the wheel
to strangle the road
As they dive-bomb through the air
to explode the night.