Lift me up onto the shores
of independence.
Take me across the ocean
of repentance.
I have crossed the mountains
of magnificence.
And walked down the tireless paths
of penitence.

Decedent and selfish.
Hostile intentions.
Lazy and dallying.
Don't listen to the whispers
you might hear another story told
from another.
From another wind.

There was once a drifting river
loss of independence.
A weary old king inside his realm
filled with repentance.
His rotting queen beside him
devoid of magnificence.
Neither shall walk the tireless paths
mourning for deliverance.

Liberal and selfish
Decaying and listless.
Old and weary...
Don't listen to the whispers
You might hear another story told
from these birds in a cage.
Like birds in a cage.