pounding out a soul song
read it right, don't get it wrong
wait for cops to come along
and move me back to my cell
there is an iron kind of hell
i heard the cry and felt the swell
after life had rung my bell,
and doused me in a sea of hope
seek out neither king nor Pope
you'll end up hanging by the rope
a poor and pitiless lonely dope
who never learned right from wrong
Society Magazine
