I am swimming in the rain, with you.
I am drenched by the waves, of you.
"I cannot tell if it is real, or a dream", you say.
"Well I am here, and I feel it either way", I say.
But in truth.
I know "either way" won't pull us through.
But in truth.
I know "either way" won't pull us through.

The water that drops is somehow softer than what we glide through.
Floating is flying and what is falling we climb to.
And if we both are asleep and dreaming the same scene.
It is more real than awake and more true than the feeling.
"Well I feel like my timing is keeping me afloat", you say.
"I feel like the sheen velvet waves make me tired".
"You can count all the clocks but don't keep their time", I say.
"For the chorus you lead echoes back with your voice on top".

These are teardrops for our ocean.
And pour water on your hands.
I had a dream that we were swimming
I remember when we swam.
As true as real, as thick as imagination.
The comfort of it's blanket, the resting of "either way".
I will meet you there.
I will meet you there.
I will hear your chorus echo.
I will be more real when asleep.