my thoughts on the ground begin to look around.

Time caresses rythem as rythem caresses time,

vibrations rhyme, the sounds grow like a vine

The whisdome that's within unvails itself to us. Like how the clowds up in the sky, are unique to every eye.

The mind never fails to remind us where we've been.

So as we fly on by through this never ending spin, with our minds eye open, our third eye scopin.

Our dreams can start to manifest and show us how we're on a quest, reminding us there is no best.

Good and bad don't exist, right and wrong are obsolite.

Give the mind a little treat, and let your body feal the heat. Let the drums molest your mind, allow the base to rub your feet. Feind for tones that tap your bones. Taste the melodic and harmonic combined.

Extract exsessive bliss from rythmaphonic extisy and our message we will find...