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    A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
    and floats downstream till the current ends
    and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

    But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
    can seldom see through his bars of rage
    his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

    The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
    of things unknown but longed for still
    and his tune is heard on the distant hill
    for the caged bird sings of freedom.

    The free bird thinks of another breeze
    and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
    and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

    But a caged bird stands on the 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 caged bird sings with a fearful trill
    of things unknown but longed for still
    and his tune is heard on the distant hill
    for the caged bird sings of freedom.

    Maya Angelou