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 (4x)

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 cards
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 (4x)

Either way it’s death by a thousand cards
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 (4x)