The village has two thousand folks;
The prison's full, with one.
The villagers tell carefree jokes,
But inmates? Much less fun.
I wake within my larger cell;
The prisoners sleep on bunks.
I rub my eyes, and hope all's well;
The prison's healing drunks
The air is fresh, the sky is blue,
A car drives slowly past.
Behind the bars, the time is true,
And days are made to last.
And days are made to last.
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