YOU'RE IN A ROOM SITTING IN A CHAIR DARKLY,
I REMEMBERED TERRY WAITE WHO WAS LOCKED IN A FRIDGE,
A SIX FOOT MAN IN SUCH A SMALL SPACE, LOST FACE
BY SUCH AN OUTRAGE, BUT THEN I TURNED OVER THE PAGE;
TODAY HE IS FINE BUT THE MEMORY CAN NEVER BE ERASED,
THE SPIRIT OF THE MAN, NO MATTER WHAT, COULD NOT BE FAZED,
I CAN NOT LOOK AT PHOTOS, ONLY WHAT'S STORED IN MEMORY
PROVIDES SOME RESPITE AND A CRACK ABOVE PROVIDES SOME LIGHT;
I THINK OF GREEN FIELDS, WIND BLOWING THE FLOWERS,
THERE'S NO KNOCK ON THE DOOR FOR HOURS AND HOURS,
THEN THEY COME TO ASK ME MORE QUESTIONS AND YET
I CAN NOT TELL THEM, THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND MY MINDSET,
I'M FINALLY LED OUTSIDE AND BUNDLED INTO A WAITING LORRY,
WHEN THEY PUSH ME OVER THE BORDER, I NO LONGER HAVE TO WORRY.