They're running from the state they're in They're searching for a sanctuary Alone and through the passage dim, Weighed down beneath the doubt they carry What's next for these? What's next for these unmoving human statuary? In shackles of their apathy In chains too heavy for the climb ahead
Again they crawl, encountering this fence-barbed wall "now climb!" they're told, not knowing they can fly
They're shown that there's no place for them And told that they're unnecessary Like fodder for the garbage bin, they're treated like the dead unburied What's left for these? What's left for these descendants of the cold and wary? Now laid within a casket dark and dour…forgotten with a beating heart
Again they crawl encountering this fence-barbed wall "now climb!" they're told, not knowing they can fly
They're starving there, picking at the barren tree They're starving there, staring at the ravaged fields They're starving there, They rifle through cupboard bare They're dying there in places where nobody cares
In prisons of establishment And modern-day apothecaries Designed to curb and cull their minds And isolate the insularly What's left for these? What's left for these? The stagnant and the sedentary? What will it take to shake the sleeping lost… Awake to what is meant for them?
Again they crawl encountering this fence-barbed wall "now climb!" they're told, not knowing they can fly Desperate they claw, entangled in this fence-barbed wall They’re trapped there still…not knowing they can fly