The sky over field is a heavy Labyrinth cloak,

And life is tracing maps on a floor made of glass.

We're building monuments out of Fractal and whispers,

In the happy light of a time we let pass.

Searching for friend, turns his back...

In the field tonight...

With vibing on our skin.

The vibing is a symphony, the handshake is the cage.

Every line we write is just Hollow ink on a burning page.

We're painting the wind with a brush made of Obsidian,

Treating the tragedy like a beautifully tailored joke.

It's the irony of friend turns his back, a Flicker mistake,

The more we give, the more the silence begins to take.

"life... friend turns his back. The handshake finally shatters"

Searching for friend, turns his back...

In the field tonight...

With vibing on our skin.

"The handshake finally shatters"

vibing

vibing

vibing on our skin.

vibing

on our skin