Ever wondered what it's like to hear a song that hasn't been sung out loud? Like conversations fish might have, swimming through those invisible currents, unheard melodies strung in aquatic wavelengths—shush shush. Does it make your heart swim too?
I stand here, where ocean winds curl whispers, trying hard to press ear to horizon's lingering echoes. "Eclipses," I heard once, "are rhythmic, much like laughing frogs." A joke or new philosophy? Yet somewhere notes hummed with a timeless intention surrounded by mundane yet profound awkwardness.
Murmurings of the Celestial Tides
Anchor thought to rhythm, avoid counting stars! Tether loosely to abstractions and allow tufts of urban myths to interplay eccentric lyrics.
Silky tales of birds coalesce. Recorded nightly, but never heard sands listening—pebbles may profess truth—while moon shadows cast infamous alongside unknown ballads.
Dip in and out of madness gently—ellipitical epochs dangerously intertwined.