Psyhco reaches down and picks up a wrinkled piece of paper with scribbled out writings on one side. The other side being blank, he took full advantage and wrote, These days are so much in the past, but the future right now is my present! Psyhco hears the pant of an almost soothing but off sense to a happy day kind of music. How will they learn to recreate the sentimental value of time? The voice had an almost sarcastic urge to be English. Looking through his fingers with the tips slightly pressing against his forehead. Psyhco ponders, Are we wasting time? Or is time wasting us? Being the obedient listener, he takes the time to analyze. In a world of dust, the duplicated tones of eerie comments made to suggest that everything is in the passing and everything must come and go. I suppose its an evolution thing and understanding ourselves so we can make our time in this physical reality sacred or simply comfortable. It seemed to start off with a sort of philosophy of life and insight to a misunderstood society. Perhaps the conclusion was a gift. The thought in itself propelled Psyhco to write, Modern day relics set themselves to be future novelties. Would Our world mean our world as we know, perceive, and create? ~ Kickin Dirt
Posted on: Tue, 21 Jan 2014 05:43:41 +0000
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