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The Renovators


None of the faces were the ones they began with, the ones that used to glower out from NCR propaganda on peeling outpost walls. The faces that had been young and notorious; Graham with a holier-than-thou smirk, Calhoun with an accusing finger. Edward Sallow still tripping over the Commentarii’s Latin back in ‘46. Graham, now, thrown into the canyon; Calhoun, now, throat long clawed out from poison. Sallow, now, still, now, his head old and aching. And all the young tribal best they'd mutilated into their Legion, boy faces long lost in the desert. They'd all got lost in the desert.

11 tracks