Strange metaphors that serve the ruling class preserve the sledgehammer kings wield to build empires of the poor who work for their wage, yet cheer the tragic loser on the stage whose monologues analyze the zeitgeist with hidden fears that motivate their prayers.

This three-eyed demon of the weeping tree, whom I conceive in ecstasy of gloom, decides to run in the Olympic race to outwit Hercules before the world, then sells his gold medal to King of Lies to found World Institute of Honest Spies.