There was a man in a far off land
who built a time machine.
He tuned it fine until the time
appropriate for him.
And when it seemed like every ream
and bolt was in its place,
he sat he down in early dawn
and shot through time and space.
He grit his teeth and couldn't breath
and thought that he would die.
His eyes bulged out and he gave shouts
and baby-like he cried.
And then a blast and very fast
the vehicle was displaced
upon a cliff above a rift
dividing time and space.
He grumbled at what he had got
so turned the dials again.
But nothing moved and in that groove
he firmly stuck, remained.
He still sits there upon his chair
not knowing what to do.
Sometimes he blinks. Sometimes he thinks.
And sometimes he just chews.
Sometimes he counts, sometimes he mounts
Sometimes he moans, sometimes he groans,
while sometimes he just breathes