the song is a tool;
yes, a graceful growing vine
used to harmonize
planets in our souls,
each star becomes a moment
measurement of shapes
beyond here and now
wetware encapsulating
further to remain
black white infinite
endless spiral transistor
light, or time travel?
tune imperfect cents
J.S. Bach would have wanted
a synthesizer
the harmony of the spheres () <| () () ()
is why i am in our ear () () () () () () ()
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