Spider cobwebs hang from the ceiling
Music sheets lie broken on the floor
I wish I'd learned to play music before
I'm always told now's too late for anything.

I don't know what I'm doing here,
In a place that isn't and never was mine;
Where voices tread across the line
I've placed because I don't want to hear.

A hole in the wall, a hole in my soul,
This room is so like it, part of me
But a stranger caught in captivity
Of a vicious enemy, a different whole.

I wish I could drown out the voices,
That keep ringing from outside constantly.
I don't want a reminder I'm not free;
An outcast in my home, the odd in the choices.

Tears are slipping from the left top corner
And my soul's leaking, flooding me;
But if I opened the grey door I'd see
Riches and beauty I was given never.

Yet the dust has settled the windows are barred,
The wallpaper is rotting and I've no light,
And I cannot bear to leave this night:
I've grown used to solitude harsh and hard.