Quiet Jane, Your mind was insane, Your thoughts fell to the bottom of the earth into a pit of burning fire and as it fell, it yelled out your name. Oh, Quiet Jane.
Pictures around the room, Framed with macaroni and glue. Windows stained with the cracks from the fist of Quiet Jane.
Empty cartridges laying on the floor, Holes in the wall and in the door. Twenty old bottles of Gordon's gin, Smoky room, the walls are caving in. Pacifiers scattered around the table, Unused, but open nappies in a cradle, But no small child seen wandering the hallways, What's going on, where's Quiet Jane?