Prison is iron, and a prison can be stone, Service can chain you in ways of its own. Bars of steel and cubicle spralls Hash-marked calendars on concrete walls (How do you want to do your time?) (How do you want to do your time?) One binds the body, the other the soul, Both teach the price of surrendering control. Keep your head down? Make yourself the star? Make mountains of molehills or fly under radar? (How do you want to do your time?) (How do you want to do your time?) Dreams are contraband, horizons beyond routine Hope gets smuggled, kept secret, and unseen. Some serve quiet, some resist, Some break free, some just persist. Freedom is rationed in weekends and leave. Permission requested for moments to breathe. Sentences are written, they can be a grind Some sentences feel like doing time (How do you want to do your time?) (How do you want to do your time?) (How do you want to do your time?) (How do you want to do your time?)
