Post by william on Jan 16, 2016 19:16:26 GMT -5
Right now, what you do, is what you choose. I love carpet denim, I really do, but the timing is all off. I’ll wear it today, just to see how it fits. Two roads, a die, a magic eight ball. The swirling blue frothy future is all we ask. Give us this day our daily ration, bring us truth. Not more than we could handle, just enough, j u s t e n o u g h.
Why is it is hazy, so cloudy? The prefrontal mumbo jumbo of a head. Not now, ahead. To the place we will be, not the place we are. See us there, dancing on little moments of until then. We will try to capture it in pictures and lenses.
We try to keep the piece of feeling wrapped up in the sheet papers. We try to keep feeling wrapped up in our words. Let it out, let it escape, let it be. Does feeling exist outside of this fleshy vault? Does it ooze from us? Is it ours? Through these age tinted lenses of our pictures, we view today; Revealed in a new hue. Our feeling is formed by it, we are products of is reminiscent glow.
You have a couple blinks, a couple turns on the big blue rock. Smile at it, tease it, tickle its salty curves. But nevernever scorn it. Your blinkers will give you a turn; Your bubbly-wubb will store those peeper performances and Your soul sock is all you really own. You Form the laters you want, to make the nows you need and the tomorrows that should be. Now what shall it be?
Why is it is hazy, so cloudy? The prefrontal mumbo jumbo of a head. Not now, ahead. To the place we will be, not the place we are. See us there, dancing on little moments of until then. We will try to capture it in pictures and lenses.
We try to keep the piece of feeling wrapped up in the sheet papers. We try to keep feeling wrapped up in our words. Let it out, let it escape, let it be. Does feeling exist outside of this fleshy vault? Does it ooze from us? Is it ours? Through these age tinted lenses of our pictures, we view today; Revealed in a new hue. Our feeling is formed by it, we are products of is reminiscent glow.
You have a couple blinks, a couple turns on the big blue rock. Smile at it, tease it, tickle its salty curves. But nevernever scorn it. Your blinkers will give you a turn; Your bubbly-wubb will store those peeper performances and Your soul sock is all you really own. You Form the laters you want, to make the nows you need and the tomorrows that should be. Now what shall it be?
