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Swing feels free to me; but there are chains.
I breathe with purpose, feeling like a bird
Funny how that men weren't born with wings
But mans great wish will always be to fly.

A child was born with eyes that saw no image
His parents saw his staring whites and sobbed
But never was his wish to be outstanding.
His wish we take for granted; it was sight

A child was born with sight to blinded parents
He knew not that colours had a name
Sunset had no words but made him happy
He wished his parents sight to see the same

Rich man built a plane to spoil the sunset
Icarus made wings but flew in vain
Children have no power over eyesight
But they carry on contented anyway