The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
Revolt and terror pay a price. Order and law have a cost.
Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
The drum in a dream pounds loud to the dreamer.
Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.