He marks his time, he marks his time, he marks his time
On the wall now, on the wall now
He watches time, he watches time, he watches time
Every day now, all the day now
He waits for her, he waits for her, he waits for her
On that day now, on that day now
Touch her hand, touch her hand, touch her hand
Through the glass, but…he can’t smell her
Please…please…please

Copyright 1995, Blanche Fury

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<Liner note>: We wrote this song after playing gigs at a couple of Texas prisons. The repetition in the lyrics conveys the absolute boredom we imagined these guys experience every day, while the dynamics of the music hopefully conveys their frustration. Some men and women, believe it or not, are in prison accused of crimes they did not commit. Thankfully, new technology continues to set some of them free.