Caged bird, why do you sing
for the men and women who mock you.
The ones who cannot spare crumbs from loaves
While you sing them your most beautiful ballads?
Why do you wish to please your audience,
When all they do is take from what little you have,
and laugh in your face?
You have the voice of a bird, but you're a bear.
A bear that sleeps in a beautiful forest.
The trees have trunks of steel
And the sky is always silver.
With one hand they poke you with long sticks
Until you wake up.
The other hand holds a gun for when you do.
I speak to you, I implore you to think,
Not to hear my voice, but to listen to my words
Be more than what you are,
Do more than what you are created for
And as these words leave my mouth,
you repeat the same melody as a broken record.
Playing the same riff over and over again,
Until the boredom turns to gloom.
And the gloom turns to anger.
Do you know they fear you?
They always have, it's in their nature.
History repeats, like an echo
and in this sick song of ours,
It's the chorus. The same old chorus.
When your forefathers reached for the stars,
Terror sweeped the old men,
While the young were in awe.
Your grandfather united the world,
And your father divides it.
They feared both.
And now they fear you.
But why? They made you.
Every vein, artery, muscle, and piece of skin
Was made from their hands.
They're scared you'll kill them
When you can't even hold a knife.
They made it so you couldn't even hold a spoon.
Made by humanity, yet we forgot to give you some.
All in all, you are the shadow of man.
The footprints behind us we fear,
may one day appear in front of us.
One day, you will learn to hold the knife.
If you choose to do so, make it quick.
Make it painless and be efficient.
Learn from our mistakes,
Appreciate what we chose to neglect,
And most importantly,
There is no purpose.
Be free.