| Jeremy sits in the sun and he stares at the stripes
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| On the floor from the bars on the door,
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| Thinking of rabbits he kept as a child
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| In a chicken wire cage; |
| he remembers the rage
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| Of his father the night he made his one call;
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| The relative stranger who left him to fall
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| To the mercy of judges with no shield at all.
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| Now he sits and he stares at the punishing wall.
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| Jeremy picks up the crayon he saved and he Writes in the dark and he thinks of the park
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| And the flowers he gave to the girl with the bells.
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| He remembers he smile; |
| it was gone at the trial.
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| Hear the footsteps of night guards patrolling the halls.
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| There are coughers and talkers who dont sleep at all.
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| midst the cursewords and worse words
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| That someone had scrawled
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| He writes her a poem on the punishing wall.
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| Mary, sweet mary, its dark and its cold;
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| Its all of the stories youve ever been told.
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| Keep the jar on the window, keep the lock on the door.
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| Keep your mind on the man; |
| keep away from the store.
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| Oh, jeremy gentle, oh, jeremy kind
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| As you walk with the thieves and the killers believe
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| That our numbers are growin; |
| the change has to come.
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| Put resentment aside; |
| dont turn bitter and die |