the future feels sweet as it does in its syrupy masochistic sadism. ah, it is lovely playing with the powers of pre-manifest. it could be anything, goddamn it, anything, and the genius who understands this are either lost in a list of the insane or are driving themselves to hell being driven in the streets of the city purgatory.
help me make this into a song, we'll never get out of our heads, our heads, pillowed, staring depths into the worlds of eyes upon eyes, clear glistened.
what do we need? let us re-ask ourselves this every moment of every moment of every moment of every day - challenging our egos to nothingness
what else is there? there is a perceived dire hunger but we are stewads, genius, magicians, warriors
and what else?
really.
its the revolution...watch it unfold amigo
with this hope
and others of pure
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment