Chalk cries across my slate-black face. Dusty fingers leave their trace. Fill me up from end to end, then wipe me clean to start again.

Magnetic fields guide my needle, showing you the way. Another version of me makes perfect circles... yay!

Squeaky clean fun that's always a soap-prize hit with young and old alike. Much like Ludacris and Queendom Come, this keeps it poppin'.

A rather nasty worm Or a device to make a wino squirm.

I was a cradle for sleeping wings, now I shimmer in the robes of kings.