I see these hills so verdant green,
As far clouds pass on by,
Many roads stretch before the screen,
That obfiscates the sky.
The songs and calls of animals,
Reverbate and blur,
Deer and birds are tigers, still
Black striped feathers and fur.
I feel the air, I feel the breeze,
I hear whistles of wind through trees,
But prison bars are all I see,
And freedom whistles not for me.