Are you comfortable, sleeping on your bed of lies?...
Are you really you, beneath your disguise?...

Do the chains of your life awaken you in the night?...
Were you born without vision, and eyes without sight?...

Is the heart within you a place where courage once did rest?...
Or are you a slave to a lie, perhaps that would be best?...

Do the stars yet hold wonder in their glimmer...?
And the warm sunshine shine a bit dimmer?...

Does freedom no longer set you free?...
Have you blinded yourself so deeply that you will never see?...

Does truth yet rest, dormant in the hearts of men?...
You've lost the battle, have you even tried to win?...

So there you sit, in your white picket cage...
With cowardly contentment, while we boil with rage...