From the Journal of a Jurist
The typist was typing on a typewriter
The police had picked up a suspect
The crook had killed a hen
Animal annihilators, bloody bastards!
Send him to a prison for life.
The typist has disappeared
The police have vanished
A minister have murdered a man
It could have been an error and it’s only a rumour
Multiply five times the product of infinity and immortality.
Now everybody’s at sea—as confused as our king
But it was clearly scribbled on the wall:
A bucket of crap on the books of law and crime
Or let the world grow in the name of the masters.