a living hell
in a prison cell
for a crime thats yet to be
chainned to a cruel addiction
built on incompetent stupidity
powered by wealth and status
with no right that i can see
you can stick that where the sun dont shine
cos you aint foolling me
those dark bleak days of winter
that last eternity
might stem from some grey picture
that was never meant to be
down into the valley
of darkness and despair
where the grave lights shine on nothing
but the witches hidden lair
that path ther has an ending
though you couldnt see it yet
when the sound that rings out clear and true
isnot the huntsmans horn
giving you false hopes
of the promise of some morn
but the guide to better days
as the blackbird sings the dawn

(apologies to cat stevens!)