I'm free...
I can leave at any time...
there's nothing wrong with me...
So why Can't I open the door?
1,2,
tap my shoe,
3,4,
hit the door,
5,6,
avoid the sticks,
7,8,
laid prostrate
9,10,
I'll do it again.
I just did what my leaders said...
Is that so wrong?
I'm doing my best.
I really am...
I'm trying to fix things...
But why are you so angry at me?
Sing a song of six men...
a pocket full of lies
six and three false young men
a-baking a pie...
When the pie was finished
The men began to fight
oh wasn't that a pleasing way
to start a life again?
In my ivory tower I sit,
watching you all fall down.
I am not king's man
to put you together again.
A tisket a tasket,
a red and yellow basket
I wrote a letter to my love
and on the way I lost it
I lost it, I lost it
Yes on the way I lost it
A little birdie picked it up
and put it in his pocket
I am not your hero.
I am not your villain.
I am not your child.
And I am not you parent.
I am your hated.
I am your outcasts.
I am the Exiled from your shores.
So why do you resent me
for what I have?
For what I built?
For what you have made me?
I am the child of the world.
I merely ask for a small gift...
Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!