All I can feel. See or hear, are the colors of your mind. The unperdictable thought of your soul. It screams through me, over me and is me when in the night sky truns orange and your song into purple! Haze? No...inlightenment Only that which is fake arives as real and takes me by the hand twerles you and twerles you in a state of mind till you crash interupt the peace that the substance may have caused fall into a slumber than wake into a bleeding reality called life.