The Cell
Why me I call out to the darkness
And echoing halls as I cling to the bars
In despair how have I come to be here
Where are the notions of fairness and
Right how can this be so in all goodness
And might for surely any man grown would
Do those things I’ve done.
The Road
Why me I asked in the silence between
The flash and the fall all else beyond the barrel
Of the gun was a blur and yet there I stood clearly
Deep within mine own thoughts of how it had come
To this
The House
Why me I looked into her eyes the question not
Having to be spoken direct from mind to mind baby
In my right hand gun in my left I point it at me I point
It at her
At Work
Why me I should have asked but instead I did as I
Was told for not to do so would should could be
Construed as any way you’d want to with your
Manipulation of words calmness undisturbed
As you’d protest how uncomfortable every
Spoken word would make your wall of lies
The Shop
Why me this fool looks disturbed not
Uttered a word that makes any sense and
Here he is on the defence feeling violated
In some way. Do I give him a speech or try
To retreat avoiding what comes this way
The Dream
Why me am I able to see when I close
My eyes at night distant roads so called close
Calls so real that I wake up with fright in my
Veins breathing in pain for the sake of what’s
Wrong or right for in my dreams I have become
You
