I want to leave this place
but I’m stuck without a choice.
It’s like screaming at the top of your lungs
without a voice.
So I smoke cigarette after cigarette
then ask for a short on a square.
This supposed to calm my nerves
but I’m still pulling out my hair.
I tried to talk to another bird
but he didn’t say one positive word.
Well, he must be content with his
three worms a day and free nest.
But I’m waitin’ for the day to fly away
until then I’m not going to rest.
Right now, my left wing is in a sling
and I can’t do a thing.
My wing is getting better every day.
The time is coming for me to put the wind
under my feathers and fly away.
I’m going to put my head in the clouds
right underneath the sun,
flying for miles—I can’t wait for that day to come.
Until then I’ve got no choice
but to wait.
My wing is broke but not my hope
so I got to keep the faith.

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