Harry Baby
Harry Baby
A cold white corridor, a few big men
Dragging him outside, without a ballpoint pen
He’s shoved into a bus, he cannot say hello
Even though they’re screaming, please let him go
He wants to go outside again, and learn there pretty names
But he’s once again silenced, and stuck in silenced pain
He cannot speak, he’s not allowed to write
So he writes it on his body, with a thousand pictures of his life
He writes about his lover, he writes about the wait
He draws so many pictures, that he needs a little break
Tattoos on his wrists, tattoos on his chest
A million tattoos screaming the things, that aren’t in the press
~ Not Mine, I just love it~
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