Here in our gilded cage,
We turn on the news and are entertained.
We are an army of semi informed, chemically maimed.
Paper Tigers that, only the cusp, only the crown,
This isn’t the only way down.

Either way it’s death by a thousand cuts,
But you would think we’d choose our blade.
But by the way we carry on like nothing's wrong,
One could argue pointedly, that maybe we deserve to be.

Caged
Caged
Caged
Caged

Here in our gilded cage,
We are infantilized continuously.
Our parents who sow the seed,
That won’t let it grow into a tree.

A spectral tiger is born,
With beautiful stripes and porcelain teeth,
And the ghost of the hunt underneath.

Either way it’s death by a thousand cuts,
But you would think we’d choose our blade.
But by the way we carry on like nothing’s wrong,
One could argue pointedly that maybe we deserve to be.

Caged
Caged
Caged
Caged

Either way it’s death by a thousand cuts,
But you would think we’d choose our blade.
But by the way we carry on like nothing’s wrong,
One could argue pointedly that maybe we deserve to be.

Caged
Caged
Caged
Caged