I Really Was the War
After tea, and our proceedings a
paradox, fortunes would
be more complicated. “Then the home
office might have been a little
drawer, and not a little more than
sufficient,” I said,
rather surprised. I protested,
“We are they?” until
I was really the war.
Our eyes met mine were sad, but had
heard, for the horrible creatures we
feared. That is another matter to bed.
Gnoetry0.2. Texts analysed:
General Smedley Butler, War Is A Racket
H. G. Wells, The Time Machine
Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles
Some post regeneration edits–quotation marks added and punctuation changed.