Was it a dream or did it really happen?

Remembered in my sleep while I was napping

This dungeon called the Quiet Zone was real

And all I did to merit sentencing

Was just to have a diagnosis dual

Enough to get my backside in a sling

They treated schizophrenic drunks like me

Sometimes with pity, or sadistic glee

Would lock me in a chamber in the dark

Expecting me to sleep on a bare table

And give me a dry sandwich for a lark

But one time my heart rhythm was unstable

It was my life light feebly flickering

The while the nurses glibly dickering

Prepared to shuttle me to RiverBend

The rest is history but there are times

When dreams assail me— will they never end?

There seems to be no respite for my crimes


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