To have a connection can mean so much
to those of us in prison.
A place where dreamers dream to stay sane.
The hopeless mope in their pain.
It seems the more we talk
and explain, the window gets
use to the rain.
Heavy rain, light rain, it’s all the same —
one tone merges with another.
I miss my mother; I haven’t talked to my sister,
somebody shot my brother.
I never get visits, nobody answers the phone.
I feel alone. This chick I dated in high school
Came back into my life, fuck now
She’s gone and I’m trying to figure
Out, where I went wrong
This is our EVERlasting
Song till we go home! | WT
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