it crawls on his back, won't ever let him be
stares at the walls until the cinder blocks can breathe
his eyes have gone away, escaping over time
he rules a crowded nation inside his mind
he knows that night like his hand
he knows every move he made
late shift, the bell that rang, a time card won't fade
10:05 his truck pulled home
10:05 he climbed his stair
about the time he was accused of being there
but I'm not the man
he goes free
as I wait on the row for the man to test the rope
he'll slip around my throat...
and silence me
on the day he was tried no witness testified
nothing but evidence, not hard to falsify
his own confession was a prosecutor's prize
made up of fear, of rage and of outright lies
