Verzamelde gedichten

[p. 349]

aant.

Prisoners

they told you you're so damn important
and you thought important was the way to be
you'll never ever find the song within you
preoccupied you were with bein' free

you know the day's gonna come
a man finds out his soul is on the run
(ain't that fun)
nothin' seems to matter, it's all lies
(ain't that nice)

find yourself a jail
only prisoners can sing
find yourself a crutch
only crippled ones can swing