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