Every time I try to leave, you lock me up and crush the key.
The spring of youth will keep me here for good.
Haunted still by freedom's ghost, "to all I've lost" is all I toast.
All directions in a cage are moot.
I've grown wings I cannot use,
I know things I cannot lose,
and I will die whispering my last words.
With the passing of the boy I've been, comes a man armed to the teeth
who always tries to do his best to speak for truth;
but every utterance that leaves his mouth simply serves to strike you down.
He would leave just to preserve your love, if he could.
I've grown wings I cannot use,
I know things I cannot lose,
and I will die whispering my last words.
