I remember the interrogation room,
I can still hear the voices boom,
Each question that was in burned inside my head,
Has informed and destroyed me.
I can still feel,
The clock of time, ticking by,
It's keeps reminding me,
This argument keeps going on and on,
And we both know we are done.
I don't have a voice lawyer,
That can talk back and defend me.
So I have to sit and take it.
The room is growing smaller,
Which is quite concerning because it was quite tiny already.
My interrogators want me to talk,
But they only want to hear what they want to hear.
So I stay silent, because I can't give them what they want.
They keep shining this spotlight on me,
And I feel so small, maybe there winning,
Because I just keep agreeing.
When I leave this interrogation room,
I know I’ll change myself all of again,
Because I aim to please,
And I never wish to go through that ever again.