How blind was the man who thrashed his dreams?
How wrong was the law to lock him away?

How many rocks does it take
To break
An electric sign
At a train station?

How sad should we be that the dreams decayed
Locked in a cell for days and days
Now days pass by on nerves too numb
And guitars gather dust
Past the 25th year

And drinks will make these pale worms clear
As potential dies,
Each moment sears