we follow the path into the forest.
the branches spread and weave like a government slogan.
we fought the mark and bought the bile
while wild flowers grew and swept the way, by the way, along the wayside and fell.
we all fall.
it is the fixed point in history.
god is change.
a great beauty and all that.
at the end of the day in line with the face of life
from a table or the table in the middle of
eighteen gray houses
we rose in accordance
developing before becoming laws of the state