Protomartyr Clandestine Time
Clandestine time
The small, unseen things
That do the job
While the minutes tick by idly
Abridged from life
Folded into abstraction
And on the clock
[Coda: x2]
The proof we are here
Is the dust that they're breathing
The proof we're apart
Is the fact they're still living
They don't see us
