I could have
been a city woman,
Trapped in traffic and clocks Live by the hour and sell your soul, But I am not Nameless and faceless, The living dead The only hope, To die in a bed Who cares, who knows, Like rats in a cage Gone in the drink, Or die in a rage But here I am, Way out at sea Living with nature, And I am free Where birds soar high With joy I find I am alive Beyond the grind Mary Cecil Rathlin Island Northern Ireland |
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