| WITNESS TO A MURDER (PART TWO) |
| All my life What I mistook for friendly pats on the back Were really the hands that pushed me further and further down The more I struggle, the less I achieve Deep, chlorine breath Minutes bleed into hours, bleed into days Something keeps me in this disinfected womb We see things differently in daylight, I suppose I mean, everything is an excuse for something But my conscience is intact I can deny everything I'm waving into blind eyes |