I’m a modern dreamer, a little bit a schemer
I always have a song if I’m right, if I’m wrong.
A modern demagogue sitting on a log
Straddling the fence, pretending it makes sense.
The only thing I have are words
Trapped within, caged like birds.
And a dream never dies even when a dreamer cries
And a song’s never over, new verses to discover,
And hope holds is through the lies that are true
And everything we wish for that seems to just vanish.
Failing language, we can’t find words
And far away have flown the birds.
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