But that I were a poet
with gift to express

A writer of dreams
with no need to suppress
all the hopes in my heart
or the thoughts in my head,

But I’m simply a man
whose mind has gone dead.

Suppose that we all
dared to be free?
To say what we feel
to feel what we see.

Ah, but a dream
that never will be
for man was not meant
to ever be free.