An amateur's shot,
the arrows of a skilled archer,
are like a false takes off myth
to a caged creature of feather.
Sing about the damning cold
sing about the parched lands
sing about the raging storm
She'd sing about freedom
"I could sail the air,
And dive into the ocean,
A taste of worms on my tongue."
"Life would be so much fun"
But the real slave is out there
Shackled by her own desires
captive in her net of wants
she's become slave to freedom
"The cage is not to keep you in"
cried Dan the dear.
"It's to keep trouble out"
But dear old bird had lost her ear.