the sentinels stake places here
we have been indexed on our recalcitrance but still sent to film these scenes
we have been recruited for this introversion by the agents of our hesitance
we will be triumphant in our bandages after we're extricated from these chairs
 
but the posters advertising how to free yourself from dreams of this
have been faded since we printed them and they never told us where
the schedules of our dissidence may be how we found our way here
but the railways these are stops along have been long since used to demonstrate
the uselessness of strategies based on stripes we never wear
and the finity of apologies and the format of the air
 
the arguments fall silent here
we have been told to wear our loyalties but then abandoned in a park
we have been paid to hold reunions for schools we haven't even chartered yet
we have catalogs of alternatives but no choices we believe
 
the sentinels vacation here
we have been selling them subscriptions to hypothetical souvenirs
we have been cited for our diligence by these angels from the government
we'll be forgotten in this country before we are halfway to those trees
 
but the posters with the pictures of how it looked when we first journeyed here
only faded when we reprinted them instead of going somewhere new
and the maps of our departures and the photographs with us standing there
are excuses for staying home tonight and just numbering the lights
and the hole we poke through loneliness in a city made of friends we lost
is that nothing is implicit in the format of the air
 
 
[Formulated in GarageBand on the way from Stockholm to Reykjavik, sung back at home.]