Some birds, kind sir, never break free of their cage.
Some birds think it nice inside the glistening, gold, columns of their prison.
In example, a Raven born into its' golden “home”,
Will sit in nothing less than pleasure each day.

The kind giants treat the raven well enough, but never stay long.
For the raven knows no song.
The raven does not know this and never questions what a song may be.
For the kind giants still treat the raven well, so long as she is pretty.

Then in an instant in the middle of the night,
A lark comes a flying, notes of the wind on her lips and wings.
Through the window of the raven's world, the lark glides
The raven awakes and questions why?

The lark in her freedom just glides by.
Counting the raven for a common, shadowly shape.
The lark dances!
The lark sings!
Then exits the room in a most subtle breeze.

In the end, the raven’s dying will is to break free.
For the raven, bless her newly filled head, wants to see.

Her room and the kind giants are no longer her world.
She just wishes to fly, like any other bird.

And now, kind sir, I simply wish to be the same.
For Raven is my name.