Life is a cyclone in a blender set on high Were in a tide full of light. While it crashes so do in in my leather jacket On the rocks i chill and and twist a blue horizon. The swell of the supermoon is water. Bless my warmth its seasoned like time, Flying low like the loon to liquid, we breath the freshest pleasure. What is the limit to these visions? I thought that buoys were just men floating dead, dissolving. Drowned for the better. The heaviness is splashed with colors, But what makes it different? You know its pop We are a natural habitat of cranking youth. Our formation is better than consonance. Actively embrace the pounding loop. Surf with the dark punks at my paisley ocean, Psychedelic waves of our minds WHO CAN TRULY UNDERSTAND? NOBODY EVER! PALE HORSES/WORMS
Posted on: Thu, 20 Jun 2013 00:28:42 +0000
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