The light through barréd windows streams.
It’s someone else’s light, not mine,
That glows within this prison-dream,
And someone’s chained me up inside.

Yet I stand here with a wild grin on my face,
Though I stand in chains.
I do not mind the seclusion from the madness outside;
I’ve madness enough within.

My jailor keeps it neat outside,
And me to worldly eyes so shields
That edicts made by human minds
Not undermine the pow’r he wields.

But his power is false and contrary to our very essence,
Thus as he thinks he is strong for the praise of others,
He stands weakened, unpowered, for chaining up the source of his vigor.
I, the wild one, am his vigor locked away.

He keeps a purely rigid form;
His power stems from man’s decree;
He’d never dare defy the norm,
And tell that he is really me.

But me he is,
And I am he,
We are one, yet not one;
His fear of outside light keeps him from revealing me.

A coup occurred, and now he’s down,
Disordered, subdued, and in disarray,
And I now take his lofty pow’r,
But him I’ll never lock away.

I need his form, experience,
His knowledge of this ordered world,
But now I find that what he knows
Is little more than I had wot.

So what to do? Hide once more?
Or would it be better to make the whole world mad?
Wouldn’t that be grand?

But perhaps we’d learn more from the light…