Fly, Leave These Hemispheres

Back on earth, I feel like a flightless bird Writers need wings, don't wish, want to be interred. I'd like to soar through the clouds and endure Storms and more, fly high into the azure. Leave the garbage and breathe in that sweet air I'd like to counteract their evil snare. Ah, if only I could fly higher into the blue skies azure Write a new featherless, unheard chapter. But back on earth the drudgery, the dearth, Plucking my wings feather's disentangling the mirth. I'd like to spread my golden eaglet wings No strings attached fly, leave these hemispheres.