Rhythm beats the drums while your guidance beats my heart.

To your song, I cannot dance.

To your song, I cannot love.

And according to your melodies, I will not live.

My heart knocked to the floor while a caged bird cries.

To each other are parallel: freedom and melodies.

While still behind bars, no birds will fly and no heart be spoken.

He is actively abusing dreams of a free spirit, praying she will surrender to his hypnotic harmonies.

But neither side emerges victorious while doors remain barred.

And no joyful song will a caged bird sing.