I see free birds that like to sing
Love melodies or soft gentle rings
And then they puff their feathers out
And fly free as wind down towards the south
But then I re-enter the home
And see my caged bird sitting alone
He opens his mouth to sing something sweet
And can only peep out a miserable tweet
His voice is sad, with pathetic rage
At his wings being clipped; stuck in a cage
He mourns the freedom the caged bird longs
Of joyful flying, and happy songs
And for the last time my bird opens his wings
And in vain tries to valiantly sing
But his throat closes up, and he realizes now
Freedom useless to sing of if he doesn’t know how
I often wonder; I often wait
For what alone can twist a fate
So cruelly that one bird flies free
The other stuck in a cage with me