That place with padded walls a
Everyone thinks they know.....
They think I'm an open book.
My eyes must be clear as glass,
exposing my deepest thoughts.
They think they know the real me.....
Noone knows the real me.
I don't know the real me.....
Maybe there isn't a real me to know....
They think they can read my mind.
She didn't know what I was thinking.
None ever suspected
That in my mind I was crucifying her.
Who is watching the gears in my brain
Turn as I pump out these lines?
If I am angry, they never suspect
That it is just my self-loathing
Turned outwards toward them.
If they read this, perhaps they'll think,
Now I know.......
But they won't.
Whatever they think about me, it will always be
"Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage."