| These white jail walls | |
| know everything about me | |
| They already saw my breath | |
| changing it's mood many times | |
| My friends and I - 'fools' and dolts | |
| We keep on living our own thoughts | |
| Trying to fly within some other minds | |
| Where resignation builds up another life | |
| I'd like to see some other way | |
| I'd love to cry out of joy | |
| If only I could make them know | |
| All the things that I'm doing | |
| Here the 'fools' come | |
| with that strange sense of love | |
| Hands and feet are standing up | |
| Sometimes we're in - sometimes we're not | |
| How many tears - how many miles | |
| Some of my friends are flying | |
| One of them already found | |
| his own highest cloud | |
| I'd like to see some other way | |
| I'd love to cry out of joy | |
| If only I could make them know | |
| All the things that I'm doing | |
| I'd like to see some other way | |
| I'd love to cry out of joy | |
| If only I could make them know | |
| All the things that I'm doing |
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