our lives are like pages in poem. their yellowed and broken in woe. their pressed flat so you, can't see them individually, oh the illusion that shows when there closed. oh, why can't we see, that our universe wasn't free, that each day we pay for the birds that we see in the trees? let no one person pay the price, we are all in this mess to blame. time will heal all of the scars if we change. on occasion you may find a page with a fold, it stands out so big and so bold. like people, there are few, for most of them will choose, only as season instead of growing old. oh, why can't we see, that our universe wasn't free, that each day we pay for the birds that we see in the trees. let no one person pay the price, we are all in this mess to blame. time will heal all of the scars if we change. to the people that are victims of unworth, keep trying for this life we know is not first. the time that you spend, could help until the end, for our days are limited for sure. oh, why can't we see, that our universe wasn't free, that each day we pay for the birds that we see in the trees. let no one person pay the price, we are all in this mess to blame, time will heal all of the scars if we change. time will heal all of the scars if we change.