Clear Thoughts
Hues of blue
Crossed between blurry streaks that become a road ahead
I feel the heat rushing
And I glance up at the sky
So I can breathe correctly
Fresh air is the cure
When the patterns turn red
Lights and sounds
That relieve you
The delayed sound
Has my ears at ease
As I have heard a perfect
Composition that defines this moment we live in
The color spectrum has become unreal
Hues of blue
Crossed between blurry streaks that become a road ahead
I feel the heat rushing
And I glance up at the sky
So I can breathe correctly
Fresh air is the cure
Hues of blue
Crossed between blurry streaks that become a road ahead
I feel the heat rushing
And I glance up at the sky
So I can breathe correctly
Fresh air is the cure
Writer/s: Ryan Palma