A fever glips on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and tips his wing in the orange sun rays and theirs to climb the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see true his bars of rage. His wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The cage bird sings with a fearful trail of tanks unknown but long for still and his throne is heard under distant hail for the cage bird sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft to the sign trees and the fat worms waiting under down bright lown and he names the sky his own. But a cage bird stands under grave of dreams. His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream. His wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The cage bird sings with a fearful trail of tanks unknown but long for still and his throne is heard under distant hail for the cage bird sings of freedom.