What I would give to fly without wings
Pack without recourse, just my need
And set off on roads
Even if I fall on my face
I am still moving forward
Close to see what the earth is to hold
Chasing the seasons
Like the migrating birds
With no ties to the land
A nomad owning all, by being free
To flock where my heart delight
And land just as lift off, with nothing but a flick
Crossing borders of man made
Without the hint of checks and measures
Hold on, take your shoes off, as well on suspicion
To truly live, escaping the chains of taxation
Debt and the 9 to 5 commitments
That only serves to feed the cycle of citation
Of the same Alcatraz
Only hoping for retirement at grey age
To be a freeman to enjoy handouts as spoils
At such young age, a stretch too far
Of incarceration to build 25 to life
Locked in a cage of mortgage imprisonment
As false prosperity
Owns my breath, directed to stress
To be owned by the system
What I would give to fly without wings
Pack without recourse, on looking back
Just my need and set off on roads
Chasing the seasons
Like the migrating birds
Writing poetry with a free mind
