Your oldest and your dearest are the last ones to believenthat you'll ever reach transcendencenbefore you march into your graventhe problem's not what's wasted. it's all the love you savednwhile you were living, shoulda given, never gavenor maybe we were all monarchs in the 16th centurynin which case the life self-rightousnis your feudal destinynthat is, until they all revolt and take your throne awayncount the hours 'til your powers dissipatennbut then you tell me we are birdsnthat we are being groomed for better thingsnno more of standing around, you tell me we are birdsnthat we are all just waiting for our wingsnuntil we get our feet off the groundnto see a better way to be than living week to weekn-tell me we are birds and I'll believennand we'll say 'OH, but look at me gonOH, do you know? no, no.. OH but look at me go..'nand we'll know- yes we'll go far once we see what we arennall the subway people are waiting for the soundnthey've been waiting many years for a change to come aroundnso give me this my stock report and mock me if you maynas you plunder ever-younger men everydaynnbut then you tell me we are birdsnthat we are being groomed for better thingsnno more of standing around, you tell me we are birdsnthat we are all just waiting for our wingsnuntil we get our feet off the groundnto see a better way to be than living week to weekn-tell me we are birds and I'll believenndon't suppose you used to think of better ways to bendon't suppose you used to conjure magicnand believenI used that trick too mant timesnI fear I've been decievednbut tell me we are birdsnand I'll believe