We are the Humanoid creatures who greet the moon with a smile that quivers on our lips.
The time is now, when the music
pours from our souls and is filtered through instruments, divine.
The failed attempt to accomplish peace in the epitome of chaos known as modern music, will soon be uprooted, and seeds replanted to be grown throughout the universe.
Most Planets, and Most Minds, are too small for the bearing of a fruit this pure.
Unblistered hopes surge through our veins, and rise from our aching fingertips, scarred wrists, and cracked lips. A thousand eyes and ears attempt to pierce through hearts unbreakable.
They close their eyes, and plug their ears in a futile attempt to discourage, but the undamaged hearts have truth and wisdom, and that is impenetrable. Have faith and patiently wait for when the future will conquer and reinvent the age in which we live. We, the Mischief makers and false prophets, denote ambition among the chosen few. Will you be there to join us? Forces that hold dew on their tongue and a misty breath in their lungs once knew, but they have fallen ill, and the elixir lies within the blood of the listeners.
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