Gilded Cage

I heard her shout for sureness in the dark and swirling doubt,
For freedom from amusement, but we wouldn't let her out.
Vesuvius erupted with an upwards-rushing cloud
The slowly flowing panic of a girl who's not allowed.
Don't let her touch the telephone,
Don't let her call the cops
Just feed her on the internet and play top of the pops.

I heard her call for clarity, and silence in the noise,
We taught her about make-up, though, and how to get the boys.
She didn't understand it, but she learned to play along,
She looked upon enlightenment, and saw it takes too long.
Don't tell her of achievement, or of sweet ambition's fire.
She'll manage on emotion, undevotional desire.

I heard her cry for meaning in her mad and shallow shell.
She began to ask for things that we don't know how to sell.
She pained the puppetmasters with her pleas for an idea,
For freedom of thought and the feeling of fear.
Searching for significance, she pushed on every wall,
But not until her sweeter song did they begin to fall.

She sang of pure and pretty things, of things she didn't know,
Of bigger bolder brighter things than we had thought to show.
With wet and wondering eyes, she sang of all her pains,
And when the walls were ruined, she stepped over the remains.
It broke my heart to see her destroy her home.
Not a day goes by I don't regret leaving my own.