Did you lose ground?   Was the wind whipping you all around?   Lost souls, they travel through the air   On pulleys and strings   It's a puppet show   You just hold on tight to what you know   But nothing's in control   When you're 17 and wandering through cathedral shame With your stained glass visions   Of a world outside you cannot gage   And your wild street dreams   The cameras rolling, microphones just out of frame   The marching band has left the stands   And the parade is underway      See how all the rooftops drop 'neath it's balloons   No walls can hope to hold you now   No more delivery room