I was born, I was born
to a world, I could have sworn
made for me, yet I am torn
between two lives, for both I try
for one is true, the other a lie
yet the latter one will not comply
to the way I wish to fly
for one is made of wild things
of mountains, trees, lakes and springs
birds and beasts
green grasses, and broad leaves
of wind blown meadows, of rain soaked earth
of sun shine skies, where clouds role by
yet of late I find that I must pry
away, and back to the life where I cannot fly
to the life of work, routine, and traffics cry
I was born, I was born
but away from this
I long to be torn.