He says I'm a mess, 

The situation is a mess,

My family is a mess, 

and I'll never see my nephews again, 

You call that help?

You call that love??

When you are tied to apron strings, 

I can hear you through the ether, 

Telling me to straighten up, to lie still, 

That everything will be alright, 

So don't tell me I'll never see them again, 

Don't tell me I'm wrong. 

And if that Arizona sky burning in my eyes is wrong, 

If the gold buried in my soul is wrong

Then why does everyone try to get to me, 

To contact me, 

So Mr Crane with the birds name, 

Maybe this little bird wants to fly away from you,

From here,

Across the Ocean, away from me, 

Away from you....... X