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Children will play in the street |
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Crying with glass in their feet |
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Nowhere to go, nothing to do, no place to go |
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They've sent you to an institution |
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They've tied your hands behind your back |
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Once you were a flying thing |
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Now you're on the rocks with broken wings |
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Once you were proud to be a man |
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You carried out your own tiny part of the plan |
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You would decide, you'd gamble your pride, but you would decide |
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And now they've really got you tagged |
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I saw you in the thinking game |
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Now you're on the rocks with damaged brains |
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Hold tight, hold tight, keep those hands on your given birthright |
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Alright, alright, keep your eyes on the demon in disguise |
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You must never close your eyes |
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Right, each night think on back to your given birthright |
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Hold tight, hold tight, just remember the feeling deep inside you |
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You know they're trying to steal your thunder |
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They're trying to erase your face |
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Once you were a working man |
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Now you're on the rocks with broken hands |
