Silver Cage
He signs his name in iron ink
And never stops to watch it dry
He built a tower on the brink
Of a heavy polished porcelain sky
And all the clocks are aligned in a row
(locked in gold)
He has the garden but nothing will grow
He bought the frame but lost the scene An empty stage of
velvet green A perfect home where shadows rest
With silver heavy on his chest
The keys are warm,
the gates are high
He trades his breath for a taller cell
He counts the wins and wonders why
He built his own quiet beautiful hell
So
clean... So cold...
He bought the frame but lost the scene An empty stage of
velvet green A perfect home where shadows rest
With silver heavy on his chest
Lost the sun...
Just a silver cage...