We are free to be free in thought and desire
But through action and speech we are chained to the throne
Of a king who through royalty’s pity and scorn
In cunning has snatched up our souls as his own
Like the nightingale we have been made entertainers
Wings clipped to prevent us from flying away
Caught up in cages of cement, steel and plaster
To sing songs of sorrow for hierarchy's play
Oh, cry for the sun when the chill winds start blowing
To ruffle your feathers and rattle your cage
And cry for the servants, for food and for water
Who mutter and whistle as they shackle your rage
This landscape you see, high on your perch
High in the splendor of vanity’s hall
Whispers of freedom, of flight without feathers
Until down the castle wall to death will you fall.
One for all and all for one or none at all for everyone
And something got lost aside from the cost
Of this fortune in blood on our hands
Be we part of the problem or part of the whole
The comforts we’ve gained is the birthright we’ve sold
Bought with our freedom, which is chained to our wrists
And now shackles our souls in confusion
For us to be peaceful these things we’ve been shown
With no four walls to stop them the four winds have blown
Sorrow’s true beauty lays in soil and in sand
Encased by the mother of pearl
And the long years of soothing and smoothing this bit
Has succeeded not in ceasing but increasing the grit
This grief manifested through beauty lays nested
In the palms of the merchants of man
To be slain for this jewel, ironic and cruel
When the burden could be lifted as a gift to those same hands