Give Us Atlantis

I believe that one day I'll pick an unusually large flower, hold it in the air, and watch the pedals be plucked away by the wind. And the instant the last pedal is picked from the stem, the dopest of beats will drop, and echo throughout the surrounding hills and valleys.

That the ground would crack, and split before the kick and snares syncopated beatings. That underneath the ground would be pools of rushing water, surging and frothing to the beat. Darkness would fall on the fourth measure, and the stars would come out in time to the snare. That the thundering rhythm would summon every one of my friends, dressed in gray robes. They would surround a pool of water, and one by one dive into the deep. That I would be the last of them, taking up the rear, in a train of the people I love, swimming to our new home.