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Monday 11 April 2011

Doom

With bong in hands, through the air past the time. Through the note we traced, step in the mind, body n soul. Slide away, began to fly. The lower note, low end pith, high distorted pitch control the story. Dynamics and volume shaped the aesthetics. Till the part it comes to the end,"PUFFF!", it disappeared, vanished. leaving you in a tragic identity crisis.




seaNdeaN

3 comments:

syairahmohdanuar said...

tragic identity crisis tu hape?hihi

Adahunny said...

hello there...thanks following :))

hassudi morshidi said...

do wan't hit from the bong......

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