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I can see right through this sea of lies we sail on and what we travel to might already be gone. On the ocean floor with the bottom feeders laughing tectonic plates still shifting, we seek what we are lacking. Spectrum tinted grey the colors we are missing no Northern Lights so far away no red lips I'll be kissing. Tried to find my way by the dim light of a candle the sky is like a big T.V. on a non-existent channel When the rivers run dry and the thirst of the world can't be quenched I will let loose the gift from my veins For to turn this broken steppe into rolling golden planes From Letras Mania