I’m a weed on br A cliff, I hang out with br An eagle, but maybe the br Flowers are the weeds. br I’m free and they br Are not, I cling to rocks, br They cling to a pot of dirt. br When there is an earthquake br I will be safe but the flowers br Will not. They are plucked br And put into jars of water br They will die, but I will br Live free and long.