The siren has grown quiet, grabbing a random snack,
At last, called upon to abandon the retired wreck,
Left, right, there is no middle ear,
Letting through more sirens of an outside gear,
Only slithering in the rhythm of bubbles,
Head facing down, gracefully over troubles,
Passing shop windows, invisible contemplation,
Principles, too manipulated to reveal the opposite of perfection,
Allies possessing - pull a sweet grape,
Your waterproof eyes, non-empathic tape.
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