It was a time when the hunger was strong,
everyone danced to mechanical songs,
and just for the sake of style,
they paint their face with a smile,
hold in their tears, but all of the while
one feller saw through it all,
he gazing at the fiery ball,
hoping one day that he would see it fall,
bringing back life to the dead,
it hung from a tired old thread,
one day the sun from the sky will be shed,
the day when the hunger is fed...

Everyday the feller looked in the sky,
hoping and dreaming as the time went by,
then a thought entered his mind,
the tallest tree he would find,
then climb its branches up to the sunshine,
but when he got to the top,
somebody told him to "STOP!"
"mess with the sun and it surely will drop!"
the feller said with a frown,
"I'm here to knock the sun down,
there's not a thing worth a life on the ground"
then a bird hanging from strings,
snapping and flapping his wings,
"My boy can't you see we are puppets for kings"
then a tear fell from his eye...

He said, "without my strings I can't fly,"
"without the sun there's no light in the sky,"
but the feller did not care,
and he looked up in the air,
watching the sun barely hanging up there,
as the feller gazed in the sky,
something bizarre caught his eye,
one million birds, and I swear its no lie,
came bursting out of the sun,
like bullets out of a gun,
no time to think and with nowhere [bad word] 
hopelessly watching them fly...

and then as they flew out of the sky,
chirping and slurping as they flutter by,
flapping down into his tree,
"We heard you want to be free,"
"free from the passionless machinery,"
"If you want to rise above,"
"There is a place we know of,"
"Inside the sun is the heart of your love,"
then the feller held on tight,
to all the birds taking flight,
higher and higher and then out of sight,
flew back to the sun I was told,
where you are rich without gold,
time keeps on passing, but your never old,
thats were the feller would stay,
spending the rest of his days,
singing and laughing his worries away,
free from the strings and the pain,
although they [bad word] 
the puppets below never turn on their brains,
awaiting the fellers return....