They fall down and I spin them around, 'til the fit in the ground like hand in glove.

Sometimes I think that to move cloud is fine and the lines, they shall be formed as they fall.

Then I see that I have misjudged it, I should not have nudged it after all.





Can I have a long one, please?

Why must these infernal clouds tease?

I am the mare who arranges the clouds that descend upon me from up above.