New Halls, New Roads

May 16, 2010
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“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”
This place was a perfect prison for my mind
The boys were bad but the girls were worse
Its sound stuck in my head like something rehearsed
Four years I was trapped in that old, crowded prison
From that four years life problems have risen
The foul smell choked me like its foul-hearted teens
And the thin line of bad and good I couldn’t judge between
But I don’t want to say this place gave no good
Some gave love and nurturing as all really should
But I do need to say that it all came with a cost
Through those four years all my innocence was lost

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