I live in a place called Thompson Two,

Where all is battered and nothing new.


This goes quite well with the people here,

Whose minds are all entwined with fear.


We fear the outside; it’s tough to cope

Without the aid of a form of dope.


For some it’s H, coke or speed;

For some it’s arson, a perverted deed.


One is a vandal; another a queen.

One tried murder; another’s just mean.


And some just didn’t think their worth

Deserved to remain on this good earth.


What binds us all in this lowly place

Is the look of fear on every face.


The cry for help within our eyes.

The search for strength in family ties.


When first I came to here, I felt

That I’d do some sculpting, maybe make a belt.


A ring or a locket; a painting, some school

In the arts of poker, blackjack or pool.


I thought I’d have a good old time,

Learning of me to a tranquil chime.


I didn’t expect the shock of it all.

I didn’t expect it to be such a haul.


It’s the toughest fight I’ve ever had.

I’ve learned much of myself that is truly sad.


But as well I have learned that life offers much

To those of us who will fight the crutch.


We have the strength within us all

To make life rich, to brighten the pall.


I’m working hard, I won’t stop tryin’

I want to end up like the Cowardly Lion.


Who found out to his surprise one day

That courage wasn’t just given away.


That it’s always there for us to find.

That, indeed, it’s all a state of mind.


So we search ourselves here at Thompson Two

To find within us what the Lion found too.

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