The Theory Of Flight

How can you feel free
when bounded by a lie.
You find it hard to see
the sky.

Sing my little friend
and dream of crystal air,
at least try to pretend
you're there.

Don't you wish you could fly
high.
Don't you wish you could fly
high.

Brown or red or green.
A colour for the wild.
Singing for a scene
or child.

Listen to the sea,
enlist a holy guise,
for one day you'll be free
to rise.

A freedom or a lust
to starve away your fears
when ignorance is just
for tears.

So clean your tiny wings
and practice soon to take
The bars are only things
to break.