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