• I am a prisoner in my own cell
    The jailer, myself, wants to send me to hell.

    I listen and wait for the jingle of keys
    That glimmer of love that I'd never recieve.

    I'm given cards; beaten, battered and aged
    Books are a rarity, they rip out every page.

    The window is barred, I can barely see out
    Freedom is all I want; of that there is no doubt.

    The food tastes like s**t, the walls close in on me
    Making it harder and harder to breathe.

    I plan my escape then hear a glimmer of hope
    Keys unlock the door, "It's time for court."

    They latch on the cuffs, ask if they're too tight
    I tell them yes, the reply?: "Sure, yeah right."

    Climb in the squad car begin the fatal drive
    To the court room where I know my mother will cry

    I walk to the bench, put my hand on the Book
    It burns to the touch, the words, the look.

    Stand up for the judge, the just; the fair.
    He smiles a bit, sitting back in his chair.

    I'm nervous, these shackles keep me weighted down
    Not by the feet; the heart's where they're found.

    He looks at the record, then me, then my mom
    As he looks upon me, he's lost in thought.

    He made his decision, of shackles, I'm free
    As I leave the court room, all eyes are on me.

    My head is down, I'm lost, deep in thought.
    My body is free, but my mind, it is not.

    I'm still a prisoner in my own mental cell
    Where my mind creates my personal hell.

    I look back on my sins, get down on my knees,
    And pray for the grace I wish to recieve.

    And I feel, deep down, I'm forgiven from the depths I fell
    But I'm still trapped in my own mental cell...