We are bound for better places, Destinations we project with our hearts, In the mad rush, we were forced into races, An uneven course decreed at the start, With a birth right to thrive in freedom, To roam into the unknown, unbridled, But we are domesticated and cheapened, Serving masters that swindle yet subtle, Saddled with just enough to weigh us down, Inescapable pastures made to seem adequate, Constrained to the path that only goes around, Tamed to be whipped, powerless and emasculated, So look around in the enclosure you stand, You can either die as working horses or as free men.