Prison Time

Lyrics

(Verse 1 - Slow, heavy delivery) Locked away for a calendar, just me and the ghost of my sins, Trapped in a cell with the demons, wondering where the hell to begin. Rock bottom ain’t a metaphor, it’s a concrete floor and a drain, Falling that deep is a physical weight, a permanent kind of stain. Kidnapping, firearms, extortion—the judge read the list off the page, Reality hits like a hammer when they’re locking you inside the cage. Twelve minutes on a lifeline, voice crackling through the wire, Looking at my blood through the glass, heart burning in the fire. Four counts a day, just a number on a roster sheet, Trying to keep my soul intact while I’m walking through the heat. (Chorus - Even more intense, almost growling) Yo, my heart's thumpin' like a drum, feel it bangin' in my chest, When you stride by, real talk, puttin' all the rest to the test. Ain't whisperin' sweet nothings, nah, I'm screamin' my desire, Burnin' up this whole damn place, settin' everything on fire. One day, maybe, our hands will lock, a grip so damn supreme, Everything feels gangsta, bathed in that neon streetlamp gleam. No fear in these bones, just grit and a hunger deep inside, Ready to ride or die for this, with you right by my side. (Verse 2 - Gritty, methodical pace) Once a week we’re in the line, just to buy a bit of food, Pay the bills for all the strips we ticked to change the mood. Wacking 'em just to kill the clock, to make the days go fast, Trading future lung capacity just to make the morning last. Push-ups became my ritual, the only way to feel the power, Counting reps against the bricks, hour after lonely hour. Free-to-air TV is the window to the world we used to know, Staring at the screen in silence, watching how the shadows grow. (Chorus - Even more intense, almost growling) Yo, my heart's thumpin' like a drum, feel it bangin' in my chest, When you stride by, real talk, puttin' all the rest to the test. Ain't whisperin' sweet nothings, nah, I'm screamin' my desire, Burnin' up this whole damn place, settin' everything on fire. One day, maybe, our hands will lock, a grip so damn supreme, Everything feels gangsta, bathed in that neon streetlamp gleam. No fear in these bones, just grit and a hunger deep inside, Ready to ride or die for this, with you right by my side. (Verse 3 - Fast-paced, aggressive "spitting" flow) Running missions on the snitches in the yard, we play for keeps, While the officers are watching, trying to see which one of 'em is weak. Can we bend 'em? Can we break 'em? Can we make 'em look away? It’s a chess game played with lives every single damn day. Kicking it in boobers till you stamp a man for his TNs on his feet, In here the currency is violence and the price of life is cheap. Walking the yard with the shiv in my sock and the magazines tucked in the tracky dacks, Ready for the wannabe heroes who think they can stab me in my back. I’m alert, I’m focused, I’m moving with purpose, I’m holding my word and my pride, In a world full of vultures I’m holding my own and I’m showing ‘em how I survive. (Bridge - Slowing back down, atmospheric) The sun drops low, the shadows stretch across the tier, The sound of heavy iron is the only thing we hear. Locked in from five to seven, the world starts to shrink, Nothing but the four walls and the time you have to think. (Outro - Slow, raw vocals) The screw yells out "Oi! Get off the top tier!" "Okay, easy boss..." (Under breath) "Fuck that mutt." Door slams shut. Another day down. Small things mean everything when you got nothing left. Word and pride. (Fade out with the sound of a heavy bolt sliding into place)