what number is this one?

drip drop, the apparent purest of the pure, permeates into the pores of his tongue. His heart steady, but with a burp of anxiousness.
drippidy droppidy goes his mates as well. All with great intentions, and great expectations. Moods are high, eager for the expedition. This isn't their first time. Their eyes are widened, reaady to be opened. As the present world changes colors become alive; greens become plants and blues become the sky.
Now they know they are on their way. Each of his friends want to say how they feel but can't find the words to explain.
"...man this music is..." again at a loss for words. Yet words weren't necessary for some strange reason. One says the typical, "...I feel as though we are on the same wavelength..."
Grins on their faces that would make clowns sad. They begin to grow bored of their curren location and they allow their bodies to mosey to the back door, where the world outside was.