We are gathered here tonight as if in a city--the center stages of
downtown--the city center. Downtown's been abandoned. Nothing here now but
the ghost of Wall Street-the voice of old political promises. The band that
lurks at the edges might be either of two kinds:
A band of outsiders separated now, but trying to band together.
Building up a scream so loud that it cracks the city--cracks the code of the
city. Or at least acts as an anthem for their invasion as they swarm in to
take over the city.
Or a band of nomads separate by choice but equal. Singing, playing
into the wind that blows each of them further and further away from the city,
down the open highway, and into outer or inner space.