A minty warrior, squeezing from its tube, battling decay with a foamy plume, it leaves your ivory gates refreshed and bright, fighting foes in the dark of night.

Standing the dessert alone with prickly needles I adore

I stand by the road, silent and bold, with colors and shapes to guide the fold. Though I can't speak, my message is clear: to keep you safe and steer you near.

When you're with me, I've always got that wet hairstyle. I glide across the floor, my movements clean and directed. After we're done the space is wet for awhile. And with a thorough wringing I am subjected.