Fabrications of lives yet to be born
Maybe the truth is just too plain to see
So tell me a story, and a story we will be.
So there was this glass palace and there lived so true
A king and a queen, a courtier or two.
They spent their hours playing peaceful croquet
Their nights they spent dancing, romancing till day.
Their kingdom outside the glass palace was dark
while they sipped their wine surrounded by sky tinted glass.
Looking in from the outside all you ever saw
Was a reflection of blue all over palace walls.
Till one day a man he came plodding by
Famished, fatigued, what with the kingdom so
He saw the glass palace, himself in it too
and wondered why,
Then realized it was a reflection he saw.
That all was not as clear as one would have thought
He took a rock and shattered the glass,
Small pieces flew at him
that shattered his dream,
For in there he saw not the greyness outside
Felt not the blistering sun,
but a cool summer breeze.
Is that now what we see happening to us?
One day a man will walk in and shatter our glass
And then he will see that his world is unfair
And want what is his, a bloody rightful share.
He will take up his arms and what will we do
We will act as the victims, our courtiers will too
There will be red running all over the floor
And screams will pierce like arrows through palace doors
And there are those who will start to think
That had we been fair, we would have not reached the brink
That had we been kind we would have not seen red
That had we been wise, would we have been spared?
And from this the passion of justice arises
They orate from their hearts of goodness and change
They reve up the movement, and take hold of the masses
And then build another glass palace all over again.