In the machine
like the natural brain
on us like the blessing of knowing we exist
the mechanism from whence we think
And the clock
inner workings gracefully clicking and turning
or is it just laughing
Is it just playing a very lengthy joke
A joke with numbers that have become symbols for your day
And the grinding of those innerworkings giggle as they spin
You finally realize as if a cuckoo had pushed itself out
That being late isn´t the end of the world
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