I'm discreetly on a tree in the leaves. Filling my life with meaning, Spinning my thin thread. There are many of us in the tree And each one is born a silkworm And spins its own thread And the seas were filled to the brim with drops, And the stones are joined together by grains of sand, Eternity must be such a long time. I've only got my tiny contribution to make, In my short life I could weave A thread of silk. Some are caught in the web of religion, Some are delusional about aliens from Mars, I'm spinning my own delicate thread. Some discover the secret of the universe Some struggle with the hardness of stone, I'm spinning my own thread I can't do anything else I'm a little worm The world's a crazy place that goes by And we make with our hands Weightless, thin fabrics The beauty is tangible
Parameters used to generate this content
(deformed, distorted, disfigured:1.3), poorly drawn, bad anatomy, wrong anatomy, extra limb, missing limb, floating limbs, (mutated hands and fingers:1.4), disconnected limbs, mutation, mutated, ugly, disgusting, blurry, amputation, (long deformed neck),(watermark, signature, text font, username, error, logo, words, letters, digits, autograph, trademark, name:1.2),
AI models used to generate this content