Monday, October 27, 2008

Wormhole

The time, the time is growing thin
Before the new time will begin
The old stands teetering on the brink
With barely any time to think

All hands on deck hold onto the rails
As all the faces are turning pale
The angle of the deck begins to tip
Before the wormhole warps the ship

Into a new exotic dimension
Where suddenly things don't seem the same
And all the crew stand up at attention
As they pick up the physics of a whole new game

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