…so hard it felt like hail on the panes of our souls, seeping through the window sills, drowning us all. The lights went dim and our spirits rose through the crooked boards of enameled bone. Pioneers, o pioneers! shake off the dust, reclaim your ghosts. We need to find a better place to call our home. So we sail from shell to sky, living in the flicker of a violent night. The clouds cover us entirely like the cardboard sheets for the down-and-out. Pioneers, o pioneers! shake off the dust, reclaim your ghosts. We need to find a better place to call our home. We drift alone through streets above, vagabonds of a different sort. Homeless in the sky, displaced we need to find…