Freedom Cry

So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain Let him/her go to his/her not-too-long-ago seen master Early morning I look up at the sky Fine pocket knife, the rough-bread is being cut Little calf's trouble has also been cut here Early morning I look at the sky My little angel So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain Let him/her go to his/her not-too-long-ago seen master Early morning I look at the sky There is a bird, who will carry away My little angel I am buried in it alive, alive I am turning yellow, heavily Mommy (meaning 'wife'), I will write when I am free My little angel So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain There is a bird, who will carry away My little angel Early morning I look upward at the sky So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain There is a bird, who will carry away Let him/her go to his/her not-too-long-ago seen master