Did you lose ground?
Was the wind whipping you all around?
Lost souls, they travel through the air
On pulleys and strings
It's a puppet show
You just hold on tight to what you know
But nothing's in control
When you're 17 and wandering through cathedral shame With your stained glass visions
Of a world outside you cannot gage
And your wild street dreams
The cameras rolling, microphones just out of frame
The marching band has left the stands
And the parade is underway

See how all the rooftops drop 'neath it's balloons
No walls can hope to hold you now
No more delivery room