I saw a strange creature, Long, hard, and straight, Thrusting in a round, dark, opening, Preparing to discharge its load of lives, Puffing and squealing noises accompanied it, Then a final screech as it slowed and stopped.
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.