Look down,
Look at the time.
It's racing through the depths of its mane.
Like the rustle of the leaves
The gusts of wind sweep away the previous moment
The streamlined breeze is a clairvoyant.
The prized strings that the spindle wove
Are slipping out of hand,
Chasing granular data
That lies embedded within them.
Look at the time.
It's racing through the depths of its mane.
Like the rustle of the leaves
The gusts of wind sweep away the previous moment
The streamlined breeze is a clairvoyant.
The prized strings that the spindle wove
Are slipping out of hand,
Chasing granular data
That lies embedded within them.
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