She sits in her chair
She sips her hot tea
She looks out the window
She longs to be free.

She could open that door
But her hand quivers so
She’s scared of the life
That she doesn’t well know.

So she sips and she sits
And she looks on the street
And wonders and worries
About the people she’d meet.

One day the door opens
She could go out and see
But she sips and she sits
Yet she longs to be free.