I’m the prison guard
and my prison’s pain.
I’m the one in charge
and the one in chains.
I’m the skin with scars
and the shirt with stains.
In the prison yard
I feel crimson rain.
Stuck in a cell (hell)
serving out a sentence
down where I fell (dwell)
cursing my repentance.
I’m the prison guard
and my prison’s strange.
I’m the one at large
and the one restrained.
I’m the one who spars
and the one who prays.
In the prison yard
I see skies of gray.
Out of my cell (well)
I think that I should mention
the thoughts I can’t spell (tell)
are causers of my tension.
I’m the prison guard
yet I turned away
and the choice was hard,
but it saved the day.
Fleeing from depression
with the wrath of grapes.
In the prison yard
comes my great escape.
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