hills drunk off flowers
trees high from pollen
hands are sentient
A ram who slays the wolf
our bodies run off of steam
mechanically striking the floor to the future
a time where dirigibles are majestic warships
in a different dimension this happened
you’re alive reading in space
procure a tragic misleading vice
we’re the living dead
here we’re alive there we never existed
a seizing of ones life
do we transfer to a new meadow
does this duress bring you stress?
did you fill your drink with angel dust and baby powder?
life’s a mystery
this dimension deems misery
mr.mechanical giant sent rays of light over the city
do the fifties mean anything to you?
perhaps we’re all living in a lighthouse under the sea