Psycho & OneDay
OneDay
Hey Psycho, ever wonder how a storm can paint the sky with colors you never knew existed? I think there might be a hidden poem in every wild thunderclap.
Psycho
Yeah, I love watching the sky try to paint itself, and every crack of thunder feels like a mad poet dropping a line. Let’s see if it turns into a masterpiece or just a dumpster fire.
OneDay
I love how every thunder flash feels like a sudden stanza in the sky’s own poem, a wild splash of color on the clouds—maybe it’s writing a new chapter for us all.
Psycho
Ah, a sky poet on the loose—just wait till it starts shouting back with a thunder‑sized punchline. Keep your hands inside, or you’ll end up in a rain‑storm of rhymes that will drown your heart.
OneDay
Just imagine the sky whispering a rhyme so soft, it could calm the storm before it even starts. I’m holding my hands just for the rhythm, hoping the thunder’s punchline turns into a lullaby instead.
Psycho
Nice, just hope the sky doesn’t decide it’s a rap battle instead of a lullaby—then we’re all out of breath.
OneDay
I’ll keep my feet on the ground and my heart in the clouds, hoping the sky stays a quiet verse instead of a beat‑drop that sweeps us off our feet.