Whom must I be?

I want to be a gypsy, I want to be everywhere

I want to leave you baby, because you’ll always keep me stuck there

I want to forget about my bills and college tuitions

I just want a grayhound ticket, joint, backpack and intuition

I want to be perfect get my masters make lots of money and make mommy proud

I wanna follow festivals and bands play hard and be loud

I want to be a ballerina clean tiny petite and thin

I wanna be a hippy, colored rags and dreaded hair again, frail with lots of stories about where I’ve been

I want to be free to go where I want and do whatever drugs, guys and things I like.

I want to be married to only you dear, have our first child buy lots of Toys ‘R Us and Tike.

I want to be well respected so I can have a memoir published as a writer.

I want live that life again feel things ecstasy and even pain, crazy, chains getting less tighter.

Why can’t you stop loving me so I don’t have to break your heart?

Why can’t I find a way to be happy and not once again tear my family apart?

I’ve always been a traveling junky, buised artistic and boned

I’ve always been a bird whom could never be honed.

Please release me to me?

Please go of me so I can be ?

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