In an angular hall built up forty feet tall
We defied a silent world with sound
And the stories we called broke down tiny walls
As they crumbled, we flew from the ground

In a bright open space with no chemical waste
We pushed our dreams with pride
And the light on our face seemed to be full of grace
As we unleashed what we had kept inside

In spite of these years, my hands shake from fear
We becomes me, bit by bit
And through my tears, I shake hands with fear
As I lie on the fire I have lit

In this innocent hell shaped like a citadel
I become silent in a world of my own
And the stories I tell are never as well
As they seem when I am alone