We are few, we are drops
We're that old picture
Supposed to be lost
See the lights and the ghosts
They look pretty confused
Once you've lost
Let them talk, let them laugh
Let them write lines and lies
Let them chukkle
But I'm free not to agree
I'm free, it's my ideal
You will feel very lonely
As soon as you have the start of an idea. But one day it might appear
That you're free, it's my ideal
One day, it might appear
That you're the sun, the moon
For somebody, you're the sea
You're free