I know why the caged bird sings
Of dandelions and devil rings.
I know why the deaf bird yearns to fly
When it's put to sleep with a lullaby.
"Oh, the wonders now," the blind bird says
As he lifts his head to the morning rays;
"And, oh, the flies!" the clipped bird sighs
As he takes to the dewy morning skies.
The crawling willow fell to smoke
When the branches the blackbird sleeps on broke.
The thrush is small, but hear its call,
It could make the mighty Romans fall.
But shed a rose of its petals and there are but thorns
That take the place of old Devil's horns,
Because the river flows with the stealth of the cat
With the eyes of the hawk and the ears of the bat.
The butterfly dreams in the hall of taboos
Where the passion is life and the language is choose.