Why couldn't I have been born with bare feet deep in dirt and grass?
Or with awesome dreaded hair that I can leave a ratted mess?
Face paint and bones for gauges.
I want to climb trees like business men fly through their floors on an elevator
And look over the top of the leaves
Like we look out our windows.
I'd like to eat food that hasn't been sprayed with chemicals and maybe find it myself.
Make my own pots and play in the mud.
I want wind and sun on my face with my spirit running wild.
Why can't I survive?
Instead of living and feeling like
Something's died inside?
A place without war and people always hating on another.
Live amongst animals
And run through the forest
With my companion right behind.
Why can't I be so deep in nature
As deep as we have our noses buried in our phones?

I want to breathe in the grass and the wet leaves that decorate the floor and sip from streams.

Why couldn't I have been born with a different type of free?