Из альбома: Some Time In New York City
We are born in a prision, raised in a prision
Send to a prision called school,
We cry in a prision,
We love in a prision,
We live in a prision, like fools.
Wood becomes a flut when it’s loved,
Reach for your self and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when it’s broken,
Look in a mirror and see your shattered fate.
We live with no reason,
Kicked around for no reason,
Thrown out without reason like tools.
Work in a prision
And hate in aprision
And die in a prision as a rule.
We live in a prision
Among judges and wardnes
And wait for no reason or use
We laugh in a prision,
Go through all four seasons
And die with no vision or truth