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Charged and on the wing
Unperturbed and cackling
A covey of fledglings
Thwart the pitchfork and the torch

Take into the lost account that fuels the head to raise the dead
Honor sits the monolith on wretched beams, it hurts to see
We built it up until it swallowed what surrounds, so i ask instead:
Could you break it down?

Housecat tactics
Let us live outside
And the small sedition
Helped us think for ourselves

Born enclosed, we were cast by those foreign hands
The heavy weight which owns our name it masquerades
We felt this sinking dark feeling then and now
At least i can feel the ghost in the gears somehow

Child of red handed wicked grins for the win
Straight to the point and ripe with compulsion
Eulogized but swollen with life
I think i can see his ghost with my gears in flight