Текст песни
Fingers trace the window pane
Drawing shapes of falling rain
They told us clouds were meant to cry
And good girls never ask them why
We paint in colors they can't see
Inside this quiet mutiny
They build a world of steel and glass
A cage for wildflower grass
And oh the sky's not really grey
It's just a shade they made today
To keep our eyes down on the stone
So we forget we're not alone
But I feel it comin' on the breeze
A shiver through the dying trees
The end of all their cruel designs
We're cutting through the power lines
With paper wings and quiet rage
We're turning to a different page
We'll break the pattern spill the ink
And let the weary world just think
They map the borders of the soul
And tax the air that makes us whole
They profit from a hollow laugh
The greedy architects of ash
They want a world of quiet sheep
Who never dream and never weep
But there's a tremor in the dust
A fragile necessary trust
And oh the dark is not so deep
It's just a spell they cannot keep
A fading echo in the hall
They cannot make us love the fall
And I feel it comin' like a flood
The holy fever in the blood
The end of all their frozen crime
We're running out of borrowed time
With paper wings and quiet rage
We're turning to a different page
We'll burn the map and salt the ground
Where better ways can now be found
Put your hand upon the wire
Feel the heat of holy fire
We are not numbers
We are not tools
We are not puppets for their brutal bitter schools
Let the canvas bleed into the LIGHT
We will not dim our shine to feed their NIGHT
I feel it comin' on the breeze
Just a whisper through the trees
The end of empire's hollow plea
We are finally free
(Mmm no more cages)
(Mmm turn the pages)
