Climbing

They're running from the state they're in
 They're searching for a sanctuary
 Alone and through the passage dim,
 Weighed down beneath the doubt they carry
 What's next for these?
 What's next for these unmoving human statuary?
 In shackles of their apathy
 In chains too heavy for the climb ahead
 Again they crawl, encountering this fence-barbed wall
 "now climb!" they're told, not knowing they can fly
 They're shown that there's no place for them
 And told that they're unnecessary
 Like fodder for the garbage bin, they're treated like the dead unburied
 What's left for these? What's left for these descendants of the cold and wary?
 Now laid within a casket dark and dour... forgotten with a beating heart
 Again they crawl encountering this fence-barbed wall
 "now climb!" they're told, not knowing they can fly
 They're starving there, picking at the barren tree
 They're starving there, staring at the ravaged fields
 They're starving there,
 They rifle through cupboard bare
 They're dying there in places where nobody cares
 In prisons of establishment
 And modern-day apothecaries
 Designed to curb and cull their minds
 And isolate the insularly
 What's left for these? What's left for these?
 The stagnant and the sedentary?
 What will it take to shake the sleeping lost...
 Awake to what is meant for them?
 Again they crawl encountering this fence-barbed wall
 "now climb!" they're told, not knowing they can fly
 Desperate they claw, entangled in this fence-barbed wall
 They're trapped there still... not knowing they can fly