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we invite people to come with us 
to lost spaces and fill them with our voices. 
unable to see with the eyes 
we become one in the song.
listen now:
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in the ruins of the structures of control
we hear only a silence
but it is not silence
it is –
a song we can't perceive anymore
because it's been playing all along

in a shack of camouflage
there is a band of strangers
trying to find this song

mumbling, stumblin, shoutin,
beating it out of the walls

grinding up the sea
and distilling the hills

paint flakes fall emptily
as the police man enters
– a last spasm of history