We didn’t dream of water, we dreamed of fire: the slow buzz and pop of morning with mountains watching over us— the heights snow-filled and cold as we sunbathed and played in the heat below There was whiskey in a dry cabin as we shook off days of mud and thunder, when the wonders of the ancient world rolled out before us— urged us to walk through and dream of a time before measurements, of a time before hunting for sport It seems odd to me now that it exists, like I’ve got it all wrong and believed the illusion that something so beautiful could one day explode and go away
Yellowstone
Yellowstone
Yellowstone
We didn’t dream of water, we dreamed of fire: the slow buzz and pop of morning with mountains watching over us— the heights snow-filled and cold as we sunbathed and played in the heat below There was whiskey in a dry cabin as we shook off days of mud and thunder, when the wonders of the ancient world rolled out before us— urged us to walk through and dream of a time before measurements, of a time before hunting for sport It seems odd to me now that it exists, like I’ve got it all wrong and believed the illusion that something so beautiful could one day explode and go away