The Folly of Pretending

Everywhere I go, they struggle. Hustle, selling clothes. Peddling toys that
glow, and roses to the garish ghosts
But I don’t really think you know
That all the verdant hills, the emerald green, conceal all the ills that I
might have seen. Oh, the ill you’re hiding with the trees, I’m behind it hiding
from enemies. Hiding from enemies
I don’t really think you know
That the folly of pretending
Is faultier than being wrong
And as you wake, the golden dew rose from the lake to envelop you.
Oh, the truths you’re hiding in the haze, I’m caught in it, gone without a
trace. Gone without a trace
I don’t really think you know. I don’t really think you know that the folly of
pretending is faultier than being wrong
The blossoming fields, the swooning streams, the eternal yield, that I’ll never
see. Oh, the ill you’re hiding with the trees, I’m behind it hiding from
enemies. Hiding from enemies. Hiding from enemies. Hiding from enemies…