Angry men and rude women. Scared girls. Lost boys. Congregate to percolate. The signal though the noise. Confusion and fear usher them near. White moths to a black fire. Desperate to separate. The signal from the noise. Their jokes were written long ago. The punchlines all ring flat. Informing the narration that There's signal in the noise. They speak their piece and beg for peace. But restless they remain. For what they've failed to unveil is that The signal is the noise.
