They can lock you in a dank cell and turn off the light But they can't stop your imagination's fanciful flight You alone have the power to pick out a reel And it's your choice which affects exactly how you feel
Some continue choosing the same worn out celluloid Not realising that it is the one they should avoid Oblivious that there is an unlimited selection All eagerly waiting to be given an inspection
I can see one with scenes of a yellow feathered bird Chirping cheerily away, its joy clearly to be heard Because it's chosen footage of fresh air, sunlight and seeds Which just about cover all of its needs
What you do in reality will invariably be affected By which of the films that you have selected But if you pick a dud, no need to mope Lots more to choose from, which inspire and give hope