The Wooden Horse

I had a dream along my road

a tear will not quench my thirst

but at least dreams, come what may

don't bend to any will

I dreamed that the most important thing

isn't who you are but what you want

and the moon seemed a diamond

and you [who?] inside a freer world

used to run with us

Each heart was beating in the spirit beside [next to]

and the voices formed a single chorus

in the air in the air it was shouting'

We are of ourselves' [the idea is unit cohesion, all, the disparate individuals being of one intention]

Each heart was beating with us

and the voices were singing a chorus

we are of ourselves

But a wooden horse is travelling

soon it will arrive inside the city

there must be a breech in this world

certainly there must be

In the bowels of the earth there must be

in the station urinals or on the altars

between the clothes hung in the alleys down here

...in your young woman's heart...

Along the street beaten by the windsome nights I seem

to hear that chant

in the air in the air which shouts

We are of ourselves we are of ourselves

We are of ourselves

Each heart was beating in the spirit beside

Each heart was beating with us

Each heart was beating in the spirit beside

and the voices formed a single chorus