The sky is blue, but not the blue that you paint the sky within tales of fantasy, perfection, and distinguished harmony.
The sea, it rarely ripples-but still the motions sickening, an undertow that subtly drags you far from where you could have been.
We keep on floating here-await the calm before the storm
__Let the rain come crashing down
__Wash away the calm before the storm
The anchor's drawn, but somehow the current takes us nowhere--our sails, deflated, hanging listless in the stifling summer sun.
The barrels' parched, depleted, our rations quickly dwindling--water everywhere but not a single goddamn drop to drink.
We keep on floating here-await the calm before the storm
__Let the rain come crashing down
__Wash away the calm before the storm
Let the rain come crashing down-cleanse our wounds and clear our way
Fallen rain for fallen dreams, fall to cleanse our wounds and heal our way
The air is stale and sordid-Impedes our dreams, assorted visions of a fruitful future.
So still, the chill autumn sky, a calm but it don't feel like calm before a storm.
