96 Steps

There are 96 steps up to my office... The stale stairway beckons me... 8 flights of 12 steps... Run to the bottom, and I'll be free... The hot, June air greets my face every morning around 10 o' clock... I place a pen in the heavy metal door, as for it not to lock... I'm appreciating my freedom these days, for I am but a vagabond... Pretending I am just another guy, they don't know I'm out on bond... I run up the stairs, taking two at a time... Out of breath at the top... Trying to forget my crimes... Don't know how long I'll be here, and I'll probably miss these stairs... Everything is a temporary daydream, until there's nothing but nightmares...