Interview with pigeons

I've been quite the home bird longer than I'd like to tell. These four walls make my relentless tomb, this picture screen my cell. I make my break and wonder through already trampled lanes, repeating futile habits, can make a lost soul go insane. And sure enough I speak to pigeons and ask them what they know. They have no time to talk they only came for the crumbs, they've got places now to go. The clouds are dancing waltzes around ever closing skies And I watch with silent envy as the grey beasts make their journey never knowing where, I stay- but why.