Pleading for united front. Buckling hands fall apart. Brief glimpses from another world. Numbers thin. Illusion dashed against the peaked rock of hope. Jingo picks up the refrain where it trailed off into the night. And the tune goes marching on. The tune goes marching on. School halls ring out with the 3 slogans of time: For justice, for equality, for freedom. But these halls are empty. These halls are empty. The call is carried along, tokens paid as the automated voice drones on, again and again. Resistance is seeds upon the pavement, a hand held out while holding back. Casting stones, flailing limbs. Vacuum life.