lyrics
Don King Sunnoco espoused words from the internal playa, burst forth across time and space with no one to write them down and only Worm to hear them. Forgetful mind, good for forget.
Psilocybe Cubanis declared this unto me “A to C#, then B to C# and down to D”, thematic resonance cascades across the faux velvet black couch, or funnels towards it. Smile erupting.
We can only hope to know the pure ecstasy of the august sun blitzing our skin cells from thirty-ish feet above the ground. Hands on the corpse of plant matter. The boys with one foot in this dimension and the other in the valley of the shadow of Brumple.
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