Imagine coiling loops,
I'm wielding quite a few.
More than I ever have before,
I'm interested in new doors.
Remoras, Remoras, Remoras!
Pilot fish swim alongside.
Is it mutualist if they don't give anything back?
I suppose there's pride in knowing
That they see me as a source,
I suppose there's pride,
In being sought.
The more loops, the greater the coil,
The grander the surface,
The richer the soil.
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