On March 1st I made my break After 9 months of my sentence The conditions inside had got real cramped And I’d forgotten what my offence was.

I was weak and small For I had survived On 2nd hand food and liquid I gathered all my strength And tunnelled out Hoping to be emancipated.

How I bawled and I cried when I realised that my plan of escape had back fired I wriggled and I moaned But the truth, hard to own, I was still trapped in a cage of bone.

Solitary I’m confined In my personal gaol Designed with a billion cells I’ve lived in each one Nearly 2 life sentences long And I still don’t know what my offence is.