And this is like the lucid dreams
Made up by fools and regimes
We know nothing is what it seems
When they knock on our doors
Wake us up from our dreams
They'll appear on the apogee
Knowing the present, presently knowing
You say "what else is there to know"
The grey is hanging low
And I am waiting
I am waiting for the undertow
Try to run slow, trying slowly to run
I'm still searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop
Try to run slow, try slowly to run
I'm still searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop
I need the seasons
Well I need to see them change
I could change colors like the grouse
You know what this is about
Yet you refuse to hear me shout
Knowing the present, presently knowing
You say "what else is there to know"
The grey is hanging low
And I am waiting
I am waiting for the undertow
Try to run slow, trying slowly to run
I'm still searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop
Try to run slow, try slowly to run
I'm still searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop
Ok then, so are we just waiting?
For the day they knock on our doors
Wake us up from our dreams
You know nothing is what it seams
I'm still searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop