A wild horse galloped across the flatlands
And on the horse sat the ghost of many words
What kind of sex life do you have?
It’s a matter for the establishment
Do not lie, we will find out
There was a great fire spreading thru the dry scrub towards the galloping horse; the horse galloped into the flames.
The authorities sent the secret police to find the horse and its ghostly rider.
A thousand strange archers stood head and shoulders above the flames and let loose a barrage of flaming arrows at the secret police.
The secret police stripped off their clothes and removed their disguises.
Who were they really?
A photographer came upon the scene.
He was not interested in the secret police.
He too wanted to know
What kind of sex-life do you have?
The question does not appear to have been asked of the wild horse or the ghost of many words. They had trotted out of the flames unharmed.
There was an oak chair, very heavy and hard and into it was strapped the prisoner.
The state telephony service began to click into operation. The state telephonists began to type. The judge came in, he was a giant rock of a man 10 feet tall. He walked amongst the clicking clockwork or the machine operators.
Now there was a change in the situation.
The prisoner had escaped his bonds and flown away.
The white horse ridden by the ghost of many words appeared at the city gate, it was time to remove the oppressor.
The green-finch man sat in the branches of the tree watching the city burn.
A world obsessed by itself is a world oppressed by itself.