Some love their straight-jackets but I'm partial to my sleeves
Drawn among the ones who trade good judgement for a peek
The border is vanishing at the corners
I must be getting warmer
I approach the door and it moves farther from me
I was told of the danger
But I can hear liberation
Coming off the hall, it only quickens my feet
Who's that frowning figure I see waiting in the wings?
I lose concentration when his gaze falls onto me
The border is vanishing at the corners
I must be getting warmer
I approach the door and it moves farther from me
I was told of the danger
But I can hear liberation
Coming off the hall, it only quickens my feet