It’s mostly sunny outside,
And the animals got nothing to hide.
When there’s a sprinklr of spring,
That’s when a bird learns to sing.
And just when the bird learns to sing,
Cages and breaches start to adorn it,
Stifle its voice with muscle and might,
Can it even last through the night?
Be it accompanied by its shadow, alone,
Or more of other birds in flock,
And be it a solo or a chorus combined,
The others cut it down, just when the bird begins to sing.
Nature follows its due course, but what of man?
What happens when a tiger’s claws are actually a human hand?
All they’re after is to drown the cooing voice,
And thus humans cut humans with no remorse within.
Too frail, yet running towards life,
Too still, astonished at what it finds,
Too little, to carry a cross so heavy,
Yet, that’s when the bird learns to sing.
Just when a bird learns to sing,
Too many swooped down to bury its dream,
Too many heaped curses, the ones, all too shallow,
Just when a bird learns to sing.