The Painter - Low Roar

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

Can’t be found

Takes a walk through his head to ask 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?

What’s stopping us?

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

This is all ours to fuck with

This is all ours to taunt

This is our home, our stomping ground

What’s stopping us?

What’s stopping us?

What’s stopping us?