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