Staring out its cage, the little bird sees
Its kin flying wild and free
He wonders to himself, "Why?
Why do they spread their wings and fly?"
The little bird looks out the bars
Wondering if things really are
Why is he stuck in a prison, shut in?
When he should be with his kin
His wings are cut, feathers maimed
And he is barely able to stay sane
Each day he sings out his heart
Trying to call to freedom, but they're far apart
He sings to the sun, moon, and stars
Asking them, "Why are
Things this way?
Can I not go out and play?
Flying and singing in the sun,
Looks like so much fun."
Sleeping under the stars, not in a cage
This prison where the bird is hardly sane
Iron bars, maimed wings, unable to leave
Not even a moment's reprieve
In the outside air
All the little bird can do is stare,
Being taunted by the earth and sky,
Watching as the world passes him on by