Why did the button switch the stud bolt on?

Greetings, there is not much time floating around for me to grasp it, therefore I shalln't spend any more instant doing these nonsenses and move on to the unprecedented necessity my fellow plough-boys were dependent on the whole century of history, with every stride they took they wrote the chronicles of what we saw and what our pool souls experienced in these rough times of poor corn and liberals.

Clouds, trees, many different shapes of human sadness and depression, it all comes together once it gets dark, and once we see the sunrise, yet again we feel the warmth bursting through our skins so we can reconcile with what is good and what is too salty. It is the smell, the familiarity of what makes us feel safe and sound, and the sound, pleasing the precious ear. The hum, hundreds of people screaming, like the sound of hundreds of birds singing down on us, sound of being desperate!

But what are birds saying anyway? I once listened and wrote down every word they said, but all I wrote was "denial". I though couldn't tell what the light beaming from the sky meant. Was it the God almighty himself who felt like having a little man to man talk about giraffes? I told him all I had to say: Why did you create giraffes God? He said: I had no other option than to create them. Suddenly I realized he was right. He was right all the time. I felt the warmth once again. He came closer to me and whispered to my ear: They didn't give me a choice.