text_original: I know why the caged bird beats his wing Till its blood is red on the cruel bars; For he must fly back to his perch and cling When he fain would be on the bough a swing; And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars And they pulse again with a keener sting   I know why he beats his wing!
text_transcription: I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD BEATS HIS WING TILL ITS BLOOD IS RED ON THE CRUEL BARS FOR HE MUST FLY BACK TO HIS PERCH AND CLING WHEN HE FAIN WOULD BE ON THE BOUGH A SWING AND A PAIN STILL THROBS IN THE OLD OLD SCARS AND THEY PULSE AGAIN WITH A KEENER STING I KNOW WHY HE BEATS HIS WING
phonemes: aɪ nˈoʊ wˌaɪ ðə kˈeɪdʒd bˈɜːd bˈiːts hɪz wˈɪŋ tˈɪl ɪts blˈʌd ɪz ɹˈɛd ɔnðə kɹˈuːəl bˈɑːɹz; fɔːɹ hiː mˈʌst flˈaɪ bˈæk tə hɪz pˈɜːtʃ ænd klˈɪŋ wɛn hiː fˈeɪn wʊd biː ɔnðə bˈaʊ ɐ swˈɪŋ; ænd ɐ pˈeɪn stˈɪl θɹˈɑːbz ɪnðɪ ˈoʊld, ˈoʊld skˈɑːɹz ænd ðeɪ pˈʌls ɐɡˈɛn wɪð ɐ kˈiːnɚ stˈɪŋ aɪ nˈoʊ wˌaɪ hiː bˈiːts hɪz wˈɪŋ!