I was born in jail,
swallowed the key
when I was
twelve;
but now I’m
seventeen
and bored as hell in
this cell I dwell.
From this hell, I tell
my story in dreams,
but even when I’m
far between
I can never tell
which side of these bars I’m on.
The stars are gone
and the dawn’s awaken me,
taken me
far from the dreams I’ve only seen...
as unreachable,
corroded handcuffs I’ll never
circumvene.
Ya know, they’ve told me
freedom’s just a metaphor, and
time
is just a whore;
but as I go to sleep with tomorrow
and wake with the
day before,
I believe it’s much, much more.
My daily chore’s to be imprisoned,
whichever side
I’m on.
Lord, I’m bored, I say
in prayers severely
yawned.
But perhaps one day I’ll wake
with my eyes upon a dawn,
and somehow
these bars
will all
be gone.