Oh, why doth a caged bird sing?
Such blissful tunes contrast somber winter's gray,
a myriad of wonder and saccharine kisses
so sweet to hear, so poignant a feel
Oh, tell me why, why doth the caged bird sing
when e'er there naught be good to sing of?

"You are safe here,"
coos cruel crow keeper coolly
"from the owl and the hawk and their mal' ways."
his tones are sharp as swords
so ill and keen as bitter thorns.
Oh why doth the caged bird sing?

"Why, oh why doth ye caged bird sing?"
calls the mockingbird sweetly, returning the caged bird's song
"out of lonesome, sir" sighs the caged bird
and so he ascends on swift, heaven-fit wings
and releases the caged bird, and the two sing as one
now as two free birds shall sing a-merry

We're the children of dark
of desolation and despair
nothing but barren fields
left to feed our hunger

we were left bereft
our legacy, nothing but ashes

this world crumbles swiftly
flowers wither at our feet, dying
we've been killing ourselves
since before we were born

we are the evil
the doom of this world, all we can become

hatred mars our souls
worn like a wicked brand
burned into our very existence
marked by deeds undone

we are the children
we scream from nightmares while we are awake

we are the lost ones
the path burned before we even began

we are the unborn
destined to live within a dying world

we're the generation
the ones you left behind with nothing left

we're the revolution
breaking from our cages, we will be freed

we are your children
we are the refugees
we are the rebels
we are your demise

we are the children...