You dream the birds of Passerine
Where night calls past, every day serene
You're free from the muck caught in the mire
Born of light, stillborn of desire
Some, some, they get away
While others they find the will to stay
And some thrive but are left unsatisfied
The world won't let you go, no, the world won't let you go
And still we had to cry
For the space you occupied