Computor Hack Hack Hack

Computor Hack Hack Hack Kluge he cried, Elegant she cried. Arguments go on for ever in the ether of the web. Hackers lament they own designs, never having time to necessary rhyme words of imperfections. The cubicle of mine is next to the water fountain. The cubicle of hers is near her bathroom. The only hacking that we do. Is in the early mourning light. Chatting from my Kluge trying not to fight. The argument gets out of hand. Elegant is how she puts it. My Kluge is in my hand . HacK HacK HacK all day. The worm must turn again on all the channels. My Kluge has got to be more important than your elegant. How can we be free of all of that. HacK HacK HacK.