Pretty Little Bird

I am nothing but a pretty little bird
Living in a pretty gilded cage.
I think my wings have been clipped;
Even if the door were open,
I don't think I could fly away.

I do not peep, won't say a word
For I fear my captor's rage.
And know my heart'd be ripped
To watch his spirit broken
If I were to fly away.

I feel as if my thoughts are blurred,
Filled songs of a wise old sage.
Yet here I know I'll always sit,
Waiting, watching, hoping
For a chance to fly away.

I am nothing but a pretty little bird
Perched in my pretty gilded cage
On a high, high shelf
In a closed off room,
And I'm not even allowed to sing.