Blood on the floor in the morning. Somebody died from someones hand. Loud were the speeches and warnings - silent the prayers of the friends. Small towns they soon become bigger. This one is smaller this time. Small was that finger on the trigger - lonesome that shot in the night. May all the suffering and all the crime just fall like dust on the ruins of time Some have to grow up in prison. Can you tell me what it´s like to make up your mind there in prison with voices that yell: "Never mind!"? And all that goes on around you is tiring and simple as hell and all that goes on inside you - what´s right or wrong you can´t tell. Freedom is a word without meaning if you only know it from books. Some try to find it on the ceiling with a wire, a chair and a hook.