The dreamers never worth the dream if he knows
Inside dreams never come true 'til the day he dies
Victimizes himself, cries forlorn for the lucid love.
Hes got to be a man you see because he's blessed with the plague and he'll
sing you a psalm, a psalm about giving and moving along
Now his love, his blood is theirs.
The dreamers never worth the dream if he knows
Inside it'll never come true 'til the day he dies
Victimizes himself, cries forlorn for the lucid love...
Yeah, Yeah... Yeah, Yeah
The Perfect, the beautiful
With breath like the sky, has a moon for the heart
And it's well known that he's too late
Like the burden of Atlas it's the poison we drank
For he's living in a world
Adorned with fervor lace and wine
But the chalice denies exchange
The thread work rests so far removed
The dreamers not worth the dream
Since he knows inside Dreams never come true, till the day he dies
Lacks lucid love dreams of angelic stares
The dreamers never worth the dream if he knows inside
It'll never come true til the day he dies
Victimizes himself, cries forlorn for the lucid love.
The Perfect, the beautiful,
With breath like the sky has a moon for the heart
And it's well known that he's too late
Like the burden of Atlas it's the poison we drank
The Perfect, the beautiful,
With breath like the sky has a moon for the heart
And it's well known that he's too late
Like the burden of Atlas it's the poison we drank
The Perfect, the beautiful,
Breath like the sky has a moon for the heart
And it's well known that he's too late
Like the burden of Atlas it's the poison we drank