(Verse 1)
A labyrinth of polished halls, a gilded cage with iron walls.
The chalk dust settles, thick and white, a blanket on the fading light.
They measure minds with numbered scales, and prune the branches, clip the tails.
A single path, a single stride, where curious whispers go to hide.
(Chorus)
The bell tolls for the closing door, another soul that can't explore.
They pour us from the selfsame mold, a story bought, a truth untold.
We march in step, a steady beat, with bitter learning, bittersweet.
The wellspring dries, the river slows, a captive seed that never grows.
(Verse 2)
We memorize the names of kings, but never question what he brings.
We learn to solve the given sum, but where does inspiration come?
They teach us facts, they give us lore, but lock the keys to the secret door.
The heart of fire, the mind's deep sea, are traded for conformity.
(Chorus)
The bell tolls for the closing door, another soul that can't explore.
They pour us from the selfsame mold, a story bought, a truth untold.
We march in step, a steady beat, with bitter learning, bittersweet.
The wellspring dries, the river slows, a captive seed that never grows.
(Bridge)
The hungry ghost in every row, the silent rage that starts to grow.
A shattered mirror, fractured bright, reflecting back a borrowed light.
We build our towers with their bricks, and hide our clever, wilder tricks.
They taught us how to read the lines, but not to read the sacred signs.
(Chorus)
The bell tolls for the closing door, another soul that can't explore.
They pour us from the selfsame mold, a story bought, a truth untold.
We march in step, a steady beat, with bitter learning, bittersweet.
The wellspring dries, the river slows, a captive seed that never grows.
(Outro)
And when the final lesson's through, what have we left to see and do?
A mind that's full, but eyes that close. A heart that beats, but never knows.
The dust motes dance in the sun's last gleam, a silent, unawakened dream.
