By: Frederick Radford
Wickedness, inside an iron fence.
That’s tailor made with razor blades.
Stuck inside a twilight zone
with herds of beast, that lurk for thrones.
I live within an episode of Frankenstein…
But I’m divine.
This origin of goons and goblins,
indexed in volumes,
who’s seen as numbers, instead of names.\u00a0
These cell’s are hell, so let them burn…
Like a book of matches, as I turn to ashes.
Without a flame.
Who’s to blame?
The judicial system,\u00a0 that’s designed to keep us oppressed.
Lose your case, then lose your life,
whether you’re wrong or right.
The judge don’t lose no rest.
While he holds his wife,
I’m dressed in stripes.\u00a0
Stand up for count I don’t get no rest.
Life in prison as I discern, is a living hell!
The dead are buried in caskets.
The lifer casket is my cell.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By: Frederick RadfordWickedness, inside an iron fence.That’s tailor made with razor blades.Stuck inside a twilight zonewith herds of beast, that lurk for thrones.I live within an episode of Frankenstein…But I’m divine.This origin of goons and goblins, indexed in volumes,who’s seen as numbers, instead of names.\u00a0These cell’s are hell, so let them burn…Like a book of … Continue reading Buried Alive<\/span>