A war of doggerel against public relations.
It is our nature to change.
We come dressed to live; our aims have little value.
The vague searches down old streets filled with lumbering cars
have little value.
The clean slate and the body in the lake
have little value.
It is time for the young to retire!
Time for speech to move secretly over the shoulder.
It is time for the incisive horse to trample the weightless thistledown
under it's crooked hooves.
It is time for the hops of destruction
to confuse the ill-tempered shopkeepers.
Time to rebuild our damaged heaven.
Time to cultivate a common love.
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