Tiger, tiger, burning bright/ In the forests of the night,/ What immortal hand or eye/ Could frame they fearful symmetry./ In what distant deeps or skies/ burnt the fire of thine eyes.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright/ In the forests of the night,/ What immortal hand or eye/ Could frame they fearful symmetry./ In what distant deeps or skies/ burnt the fire of thine eyes.
Looking at the sun will make you blind... sometimes.
Some planets are alive.
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