Sunday

For Free


Feathers fall behind this cheap wood
An eagle turns into a fly
No place to spread a wing, too shy
The swan keeps on wearing a hood.
 
A pen is not a pen no more
If ink is sold to those who prey
For everything that you can pay
Your soul is sad your body sore.
 
The wild is beaten until tamed
Fire is cold and just for trade
your right is lost until you write
That wrong is right and sign your name...
 
The cage is here I know you ache
The more you smile I see you fake
This world is small it needs a brush
A string that sings, a loving touch
The rest will take itself to rest
Let us be fine not reach for best
It is in fine that soul can grow
The peace of mind that makes eyes glow...
It is in fine that you can see
That what you need was always free
DS

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