No lungs, no words, yet still I sing, as horsehair dances across my strings. In trembling tones I rise and fall, a musical voice that says it all.

Sharp tool to cut and shave without me you will have a bad time in the cave

Inked tales of yesterday, delivered daily. Those in the know will be found whispering truths and tales, its viewpoint capturing the world in black and white.

The path of a well thrown American football pass. A staircase that goes round and round. The shape of a galaxy important to me and to you. The cut of a holiday ham.

The morning’s first sound, Doze must be pressed, On that button so round, To ensure you continue, Your comfortable rest.