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 see the ghost in the gears somehow 
child of red handed wicked grins with the win