Washing Time Machine - Poem by Stevie Taite
The place where washing machines are all made
must be a land where some time gets waylaid
When they deliver them back here again
they seem to defy space time continuum
If it tells you I minute, don't bother to wait
Those people that make them must always run late
It takes a lot longer, their cycles are wack
That time that you've stolen, we need it all back!
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