The wind blows,
Listening to our woes.
It hears the trees sigh,
Oh dear, why do you cry?
The trees reply; “Believe me, I try
To be blithe, but sometimes
Even I want to be free,
Like the birds who find home in me,
Like the man who sits underneath me,
Sometimes I just wish to be free.”
The wind sighs, “Even I sometimes cry,
Wishing I was free To go where I like.”
The tree replies, “Oh! But the roots are my ties,
The soil my cage,
The bars of my rage.”
The man comes and seats underneath
Says, “Sometimes even I want to be free.
I want to be free from myself, you see.
Sometimes I just want to be free.”
The bird comes and sits on the tree,
“You think I am free?
The humans are killing us three by three
And cutting our home, the tree.”
The wind sighs, “Oh tree, open your eyes.
We are all trapped under this disguise.
Sometimes we all cry,
Just wanting to be free,
Sometimes we all sigh.
