They hung me on the wire,
Sleeves pinned, collar folded.

Selfishness blows there,
And I flutter like a wounded fly.

The chidren come and play.
I sigh at their shots in delight.

The lovers sit on the benches under passion.
I blink to see their warm kisses.

I struggle to stretch my arms
To whisper to them,

Wear me, o young generation
Wear me and make me your dress

And carry wherever people
Walk, sit and sleep.