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Bored
bloodstains on the floor
chains to lock the door
only conscious minutes at a time
the sky is painted like the night
but spackled stars and stripes
10 foot walls with barbed wire
hold wild dogs in
the sun's not appreciated here

scared
of nothing but themselves
no mirrors on the shelf
just dirty looks from pissed of passerbys
closets overflowed with bones
who can call this home?
they don't have no real friends
just wild dogs

and they've lived here for all of their lives
where poor men just live to die
the good times don't last
they'll linger for an hour
if lucky a day at best
the sun's not appreciated here