There's a painter who stares at miles of white all around
Each color he's dreamed is lost in thought and can't be found
Takes a walk through his head to asks his friends if they'd come out
Come out from your shells, come chat with me and walk around,
Walk around
This is all ours to fuck with, this is all ours to taunt
This is our home, our stomping ground
What's stopping us?
Wake up from your sleep, they're only dreams, not solid ground
You'd keep your eyes closed if you had known what I have found,
What I have found
Can you blame me for not wanting both feet on the ground
While you follow routine and waste your days, I'm in the clouds
Raining down