In the before i have whispered from a child-breath underground while the sidewalk rules where fashioned with yesterdays eyes.
Its like miracle confetti for your mind, and old monuments becomes your tongue.
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
In the before i have whispered from a child-breath underground while the sidewalk rules where fashioned with yesterdays eyes.
Its like miracle confetti for your mind, and old monuments becomes your tongue.