They are listening in the wires, br in the walls, under the eaves br in the wings of house martins, br in the ears of old women, br in the mouths of children. br br They are listening to this now. br br So let's hear it for the secret police, br a much misunderstood minority. br After all, they have their rights, br their own particular ways of seeing things, br saying things, cooking things, br they too have a culture uniquely their own. br br                   And we think br br they should have their own state br where they could speak their own br incomprehensible tongues, write br their confessions, their own unknown histories, br cultivate their habits of watching br by watching each other, and fly br their own flags there, at attention br on parade in their medals at their monuments br on their secret anniversaries, making speeches, br singing praises to the God of Paranoia. br And at the end of the day br bury their dead, publish coded obituaries br to each other, and rest at last br in their own kind of peace, forever.