MY HEART GOES ON
The day I left for Cuba was the same day I
took that wheelchair home : my face was still
hurting from the beating I took. Cops and
robbers was a game, though this was real as
shit. And I'd sworn I'd leave this land.
As quick as I could I did - why stay in a place
with no angels? Blue sea and bluer sky; they make
nothing here and they only crops they grow they use.
I'm happy I got to Cuba - all the stories they say
about the place are wrong, but they keep more
from coming. OK with me, I kind of like solitary.
This is a lock-down you see. And what's the
difference in what they're calling? How's a lock-up
different from a lock-down? Either way you
can't get out, you're there to stay.