WEBVTT

00:00:00.000 --> 00:00:01.890 align:middle line:90%


00:00:01.890 --> 00:00:04.050 align:middle line:90%
"Deserted Airfield."

00:00:04.050 --> 00:00:07.230 align:middle line:84%
"Green lights at the end
of the world still wink.

00:00:07.230 --> 00:00:10.260 align:middle line:84%
Cold frogs hop in
the sunken runway.

00:00:10.260 --> 00:00:13.350 align:middle line:84%
The isinglass windows
crackle, and smiles

00:00:13.350 --> 00:00:17.340 align:middle line:84%
on the ghosts of the zeros light
the wings with rising suns.

00:00:17.340 --> 00:00:20.610 align:middle line:84%
The weather reports say,
ground all light aircraft.

00:00:20.610 --> 00:00:23.610 align:middle line:84%
Lash the hobbled planes
tight to the ground.

00:00:23.610 --> 00:00:26.940 align:middle line:84%
[INAUDIBLE] Pterodactyls--
some leopard-spotted,

00:00:26.940 --> 00:00:29.100 align:middle line:90%
some pale with tires sunken--

00:00:29.100 --> 00:00:32.400 align:middle line:84%
with aileron struts and
shields concave to the world,

00:00:32.400 --> 00:00:33.720 align:middle line:90%
they shudder.

00:00:33.720 --> 00:00:35.580 align:middle line:90%
Green hops over the marsh.

00:00:35.580 --> 00:00:37.230 align:middle line:90%
Icing, the runway cracks.

00:00:37.230 --> 00:00:40.140 align:middle line:84%
A pavement for pilots flown
to meteorological weathers

00:00:40.140 --> 00:00:42.330 align:middle line:84%
and zones where
leather jackets never

00:00:42.330 --> 00:00:46.290 align:middle line:84%
crack and Mae Wests float,
inflating the raft of the dark.

00:00:46.290 --> 00:00:49.440 align:middle line:90%
Wind ravages these relics.

00:00:49.440 --> 00:00:52.470 align:middle line:84%
Strumming in golden
radar, sunburned tin foil

00:00:52.470 --> 00:00:55.080 align:middle line:84%
peels in chattering
strips from the nose.

00:00:55.080 --> 00:00:57.330 align:middle line:84%
Chennault and his
Flying Tigers lumber out

00:00:57.330 --> 00:01:00.210 align:middle line:84%
of the bare, guillotined
heart of the hangar.

00:01:00.210 --> 00:01:03.990 align:middle line:84%
The tower, garrotted
by time, looks on.

00:01:03.990 --> 00:01:07.620 align:middle line:84%
Strafing old hippodromes,
they take it all on the chin.

00:01:07.620 --> 00:01:10.500 align:middle line:84%
Wrenches tap and flak
pries their secrets

00:01:10.500 --> 00:01:13.740 align:middle line:84%
from holes like worms from
the whirlybird morning.

00:01:13.740 --> 00:01:16.260 align:middle line:84%
The scuttlebutt of
morning breathes, "Asia."

00:01:16.260 --> 00:01:18.510 align:middle line:90%
They sigh and settle.

00:01:18.510 --> 00:01:22.050 align:middle line:84%
Himalayan junk men love these
stinking Bears, these Tigers,

00:01:22.050 --> 00:01:23.310 align:middle line:90%
and these fighters.

00:01:23.310 --> 00:01:26.250 align:middle line:84%
The cables jumped and
hanging, saying "jump"

00:01:26.250 --> 00:01:28.950 align:middle line:84%
so clearly that the
goggled morning lies

00:01:28.950 --> 00:01:33.170 align:middle line:84%
dead in the pilot's seat with
the radio stuttering, "Over."

00:01:33.170 --> 00:01:35.000 align:middle line:90%