Imagine if you will, The Bearded Man in his natural state: jus’ chillin’. He ain’t doin’ sh**. Not saying nothin’, not *doing* nothin’... jus’ chillin’. Now imagine if you can, one of the finest females in existence. Imagine a hammock, imagine a bay, and imagine the sunset. The sky looks like a planetarium, doesn’t it? The colors are too vibrant to be real, aren’t they? Why is the water in the bay going sideways? Why are the waves so calm? Why is the temperature so perfect? What’s that I smell in the distance — is that onions? A Barbecue? Is that sexy chill trap music coming from across the bay? Feels good, doesn’t it? A couple of cold drinks in hand, you can hear the ice cubes resonating as they collide with the sides of the glass. The breeze is so gentle, it can’t even push a blade of grass sideways. The girl leans in. “Hold me”, she says… And all is calm in Bearded Land©.
More from The Bearded Man (Armada)
Recommended For You