my wings clipped
than live in a gilded cage
ripped from the outside
if I can’t spread my wings
I can still sing in the open air
catch a breeze
and have the sun’s glare
shining on my face

I’d rather have
my vocal cords cut
than live in silence
as a muzzled mutt
I’ve a lot to say
and if I have
my pen
then I’ve the key
to open every door for me

I’d rather have
my legs chopped off
than lose my head
how is it to run into a friend
I can’t remember
or how I spent last December?

I’d rather have
today
than tomorrow
tomorrow may not arrive
and yesterday I can’t revive