On my way to Guantanamo,
Shot my life till out of ammo,
Curtain falls, stained with blood and shit,
Washed ashore and filled with filth,
Put my face in the tearless grit.
Brought up by a branded gypsy,
Did get me a life ωorthy;
To lick the drop freedom,
At last shot to stardom;
I killed a man.
Deep inside a million petals;
Of insanity and folded veils,
Got carried in devils jeep,
To the farthest shore,
Where my master lay.
By the shadow of the sycamore I sat,
To catch the wind, a lot easier than redemption,
The slideshow began, I had choice, I had the vision,
The pain of regret, the pain of silence, then still;
I always had the choice, still I sat,
In the glory of the thorns of light.