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