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John Taylor
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Run of the Mill
I cried a river
I cried a river for your years
Pain and torture
The fear
Insane and lonely
I can't die for you
I only wish that I'd been there
To ease your moments
To fan your fading embers
I scream on the outside
For these dizzy prisoners
An evil mistreatment
To service our weaknesses
And in your greatness
Lay a sadness circumspect
that in every victory lost
Only a hollow sound remained
No easy music
When you're locked up in your pen
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Some hidden basement
Depraved, deprived abuse meant
I'm sick of the future
It's all stormy corners
Abandoned and beaten
You're just sport for the jailers
God give me a reason for these bloody waters
You get to know just how bad things are
when you know this is run of the mill
And under this armour
Lay a friendly politesse
A gently surging note of hope
Hope for us all
I'm happy for you
You seem to find some peace at last
So complimentary
We are
Of you down here
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