The second I return from hell—bringing all stories to tell—I will never say it’s well when you know I came from hell. Now I got to get along—things ain’t right—they just go wrong—seem I been a little long—wrapped up tight all of my might—In seconds I’ll be lost and gone—seconds I’ll be lost and gone. The second I return from jail—bringing all stories to tell—I will never say it’s well—when you know I came from jail. Wish there was a little left of my mind—afraid I lost a lot—too much over time. Searching everywhere—I find— not enough of this and none of it’s mine. If I care or give a hit—I only know I’ll die and never be missed. The second I return from hell—bring all visions to tell—you will never say it’s well—when you know I came from hell. Left a little—innocence—never new it came until it had went—spent a lot of wasted time—looking for a world where everything’s fine.
© 1993 Written by RM Wednesday’s Knight Publishing
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