[bad word] 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