9.618

9.618
The pattern never fails
Just a change in texture
We are all just weaves
In the grandiose design
Gods haute couture
The relationship line

We strut down the ramp
Wearing a new line
Stitched by the same hands
Cut by the same designer
In the end the weave is still the same

A new season, a new fad
The toast of many a night
But summer will go to winter
And a new season will come
When you trade the old for the new
But the weave is still the same
9.618