none may imprison

if there's an answer we have not yet heard
we peck at thoughts like birds at a crumb
the syndrome's not expressed in a plain word
there's a better way than simple rule of thumb
but we test things here with a smart plumb
this village comes equipped with its own bars
the line we follow will not leave each numb
our minds are freed by pale light of the stars

the vision we're shown is not yet absurd
we listen but we don't hear the straight hum
our time we halve or quarter or even third
the music is not of the sort we'd strum
yet we are caught in a type of verbal scrum
our thoughts are shaken by the constant jars
our heads reecho to their deep inner drum
our minds are freed by pale light of the stars

in each heart there resides a rebel bird
that has the hardest time in keeping mum
we count the times its hatching has occurred
but don't confuse its egg for some rich plum
our bodies trap us in their private slum
we see the rich speed by in their smooth cars
our mouths may open but we remain dumb
our minds are freed by the pale light of stars

prince who has heard the engines beat and thrum
do not be hasty to condemn these wars
your thoughts do not add up to the full sum
our minds are freed by the pale light of stars