Time Travel
@rodeodotclub 
 

Exhibit of Air
(Lyrics)

I walk around in a room with invisible frames,
A canvas of whispers, no need for names.
A single black dot, they call it profound,
The silence screams louder, no sound to be found.

Oh, the emptiness speaks in circles and squares,
A brushstroke of nothing, but who really cares?
A gallery of echoes, an exhibit of air,
I’m paying for meaning, but is it even there?

The critics are in love with a line on the wall,
Say it’s the future, but it’s nothing at all.
A masterpiece born from an unpainted hue,
I nod in agreement—what else can I do?

Oh, the emptiness speaks in circles and squares,
A brushstroke of nothing, but who really cares?

The creative social network. ✳︎ rodeo.club

Time Travel
@rodeodotclub 
 

Exhibit of Air
(Lyrics)

I walk around in a room with invisible frames,
A canvas of whispers, no need for names.
A single black dot, they call it profound,
The silence screams louder, no sound to be found.

Oh, the emptiness speaks in circles and squares,
A brushstroke of nothing, but who really cares?
A gallery of echoes, an exhibit of air,
I’m paying for meaning, but is it even there?

The critics are in love with a line on the wall,
Say it’s the future, but it’s nothing at all.
A masterpiece born from an unpainted hue,
I nod in agreement—what else can I do?

Oh, the emptiness speaks in circles and squares,
A brushstroke of nothing, but who really cares?

https://rodeo.club/post/0xe8dbBBbCf3da19a2668193dF3546c1a7F61792db/50900