your better off dead
what you know, don't mean shit
you screwed the pooch
so your own throat you'll slit
Would you rather have torture
than what you've got
the dress of an inmate
on the outside you've bought
you knew they could'nt touch you
even though they broke you
if you can't fear God
Than who can you fear
Lay on my slab now go to sleep
you won't feel shit within my keep
you owe the state your life in full
another kill in huntsville
rest assured
In prison till death
you kno who holds the cards
you can fade away
behind small bars
Robert Brooker
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/huntsville/
