two months since, i passed those gates
doing nothing, for a number of days
here I am, back to square one
feeling nostalgic, the old lady's son
food is bad, the toilets never flushed
rooms are small, like a pigeon hole
hear the talk, as if all is doomed
need work done, 'NO thats not my role'.
did you hear that? he screwed so and so..
bitching goes on, about every john doe
all we ever did, was copy and paste
even the names not changed, in the last minute haste
why is it then, I was itching to come?
from a place where I, was comfortably numb
among incessant laughter, sounding like a disturbed beehive
heard myself say. 'I am feeling ALIVE'.
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