Up and down, up and down,
Corner to corner, round and round;
Snarling at those who are staring at me
Standing outside, supposedly free.
I growl and I roar; then through a door
They throw in some meat,
Bloody and juicy for me to eat.
Sometimes they’ll herd me into a pen;
They’ll use hoses and brooms to clean things up
And then they’ll herd me back again.
Born into captivity,
The king of the jungle can never be me.
So here I’ll die when I reach old age,
Finally free to vacate my cage.