Bricks

White were the walls that encased my body
White were the hands that locked me inside
White was the color of every other stripe
Of the flag that watched over our dreams

If labels are limits, then those sirens are blaring
Behind us as we fly on by
Screaming, "Get back here you dirty sons of bitches
Can't you read that fucking sign?"

White were the sheets upon which I slumbered
White were the lights that awoke me
White was the noise that echoed down the hallway
And silently rattled through my brain

If labels are limits, then we're crashing right through that
Glass ceiling overhead
And the janitors keep the brooms and dustpans in the closet
And smile wide-eyed towards the sky
Smile wide-eyed towards the sky