06-17-2014, 12:56 AM
THE BIRD
It’s a new morning, I know it’s time to fly.
I spread out my wings and take off toward the sky.
As I glide and swirl in the air I can see the red lines
That were drawn on the earth by men.
Those lines they call borders mean nothing to me,
as I laugh at their desire to own land and sea.
I don’t have roots, I don’t stay grounded,
The world is my home and I roam free.
I kiss the flowers up North, suck their nectar and go.
I drift South with the gentle breeze of the turquoise sea,
I travel West and East. Red lines can’t stop my soar.
But when I swoop low, closer to the ground,
the red lines look like spines and blades.
They hurt and divide the poor soul of men.
I sing a song of hope, I close my eyes. I can’t believe
That men won’t let each other be free.
Someday, I’ll find a perfect tree
Of tangled branches and deep, dark green leaves.
I’ll nest and I’ll call it home.
I’ll make the tree happy with my sweet, tender voice.
And when men come to try to cage me
I’ll fly as high as my heart lets me.
I’ll miss my tree, but I won’t look back.
Men, your borders are useless when I want to fly.
Men, your borders are blurry and old.
Men, your borders were born from war and greed.
Men, your borders aren’t engraved on our generous soil.
Men, your borders are painted with water-based paint and blood.
It’s a new morning, I know it’s time to fly.
I spread out my wings and take off toward the sky.
As I glide and swirl in the air I can see the red lines
That were drawn on the earth by men.
Those lines they call borders mean nothing to me,
as I laugh at their desire to own land and sea.
I don’t have roots, I don’t stay grounded,
The world is my home and I roam free.
I kiss the flowers up North, suck their nectar and go.
I drift South with the gentle breeze of the turquoise sea,
I travel West and East. Red lines can’t stop my soar.
But when I swoop low, closer to the ground,
the red lines look like spines and blades.
They hurt and divide the poor soul of men.
I sing a song of hope, I close my eyes. I can’t believe
That men won’t let each other be free.
Someday, I’ll find a perfect tree
Of tangled branches and deep, dark green leaves.
I’ll nest and I’ll call it home.
I’ll make the tree happy with my sweet, tender voice.
And when men come to try to cage me
I’ll fly as high as my heart lets me.
I’ll miss my tree, but I won’t look back.
Men, your borders are useless when I want to fly.
Men, your borders are blurry and old.
Men, your borders were born from war and greed.
Men, your borders aren’t engraved on our generous soil.
Men, your borders are painted with water-based paint and blood.