With outreaching hands I traverse continents,Reigning missiles to falsehoods in the hopeThat my machinations will conceive of a movementSo pure in intention, so honest in expression,That for a moment I will have the peace of a vacuumFreed from the perpetual rumble of time.And all who bear witness shall say:"Hark! For we cannot give enough in our fervorFor you, America, for you we shall consume