Out of the mist my ancestors rise

To answer the call of the captive bird’s cries

The calls that can make a human’s ears ring

It’s the voice of my species, it’s not a yell or a scream.

It’s a call of rejoice and the way my kind sing

With your cages and bars and your clipping of wing

You have taken all pride and made it only a dream

I get yelled at and told my voice is all wrong

But if you knew my species you’d know it’s my song
 

I was born with these wings so that I could fly high

Not to sit in a cage and watch as life passes by

Nature intended for me to be free and to be wild

Not to be hand-fed or diapered like a child

If only you’d look for the truth in my eyes

You’d spare us the suffering of the bird breeder’s lies
 

So out of the mist my ancestors rise

To try to bring comfort to the captive birds’ cries

Only in dreams will we ever take flight

For this is the song of a captive bird’s plight
 

THE END

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