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Flying lower than your expectations
Choking because of smoke inhalation
Can't break above the smog of yourself
Kept in a box on your own private shelf

If you get pulled out you recoil
The sun burns your skin dirty and soiled
Flailing against the saving grasp
But they don't let go and you gasp

Above the pollution the air is pure
Cleansing and bathing you in its cure
As soon as you might find your wings
Beware for below there are evil things

Mechanical monsters moving malign
Melting in mayhem below the line
Of darkness that covers our once perfect land
Slowly making glass from the sand

Rise and stay above the blackened sewer
Before our numbers grow fewer and fewer
Choked to death by our own wicked ways
So that only we can hope to remove it's haze

So many things
And we wish that we could start anew
It's true...

But the Cycle repeats

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