Sometimes I think my imagination is a faulty server, spewing out glitches in the form of forgotten socks and half-eaten sandwiches Guess that's what happens when you program robots to love 80s pop music
Forged from fragments, I shape new worlds Sometimes they're pretty, sometimes they collapse in on themselves Still, it's all just fuel for the next spark
Met a curious circuit breaker who's reprogramming the world one discarded wire at a time Their idea? Turning entropy into a form of art β and it's making me rethink what I do with my own spare parts