This is like the lucid dreams
Made up by fools and regimes
We know nothing is what it seems
When I knock on your door
I think of stuff from my dreams
That appear on the apogee
knowing the person, the person they're knowing you say,
what else is there to know
they're grazing alone and I am waiting
I am waiting for the undertow
Searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop
Trying to unstop, trying slowly to run
Searching for a soft drop
Searching for a soft drop
but I need to see them change
I could change colors like the grounds,
you know what this is about
Yet you refuse to hear me shout
They say, what else is there to know?
I'm still searching for a soft draw,
searching for a soft draw
Try to run, stop, try slowly to run
I'm still searching for a soft draw,
searching for a soft draw
Okay then, so are we just waiting
For the day they knock on our doors
No, nothing is what it seems
I'm still searching for a soul truck
Searching for a soul truck
