Man hands on misery to man,
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Perhaps a tweak of the
Algorithm is in order.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Perhaps a tweak of the
Algorithm is in order.
Reposted from
Thomas Lumley
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. Perhaps
A tweak of the algórithm is in order
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. Perhaps
A tweak of the algórithm is in order
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