The tears run freely as the wind comes on down
The wind comes on down. The wind
Making me cold to be grounded like this,
Making me stiff with gravitational pull;
Taunting, tantalizing, making me cry,
My down-to-earthliness killing me.
It pulls at my hair in random handfuls,
(almost sets it free, think I wish it would.)
Whips my skirt and tugs at my heart,
Wild in all its freedom
It comes tumbling down the street;
Bringing me hints of elsewhere,
My hands to my face – I’m crying again.
The tears run freely as the wind comes on down
Making me wild in my imprisonment,
Stalking the city street by street,
I pace the perimeters
of the cage
As if possessed (and I am) by fury
Looking for the one bar that’s bent
Looking for the loophole to slip through.
Some say it’s the cold that tears me up
I’ve heard the crying blamed on loneliness.
They’re wrong – I can tell you firsthand
It’s the grounded stuck-to-earthliness,
The feet down here and touching ground,
It’s the not being able to fly –
That’s what does me in.
The tears run freely as the wind comes on down
The wind comes on down, the wind.