Even with the lullaby from the ac,
Or the warm and soothing blanket
And the soft cotton bed,
I feel my sleep still far away.
Even with the different menus,
Tastly cooked up for me
Decorated, and served in china ware,
I still feel my hunger flown away.
Even the beautiful frock I wear,
Stitched with the finest of silks
Soft like the feather of a peacock,
Is pricking my body all the time.
When can I be my own master
And turn around as I wish,
When can I break the big black chains
And fly with my thoughts, far and wide.
Then may be I can sleep well
Even under the railway bridge,
And the left-over in the bin
Will be the tastiest of all the food,
And the re-stitched torn frock
Will feel like a feather on me.
I wish those days come fast,
And take me of my feet.