The White Room.

In the white room is where i sit.
On my body a straight jacket does tightly fit.
The four walls padded and as soft as butter.
They put me in here because i am a nutter.
On the ceiling a bright light shines all day.
A fly on the wall does listen to everything i say.
Inside my straight jacket i shit and piss.
At the fly on the wall i manically hiss.
For me my future does look bleak.
The air in here does disgustingly reek.
In the white room i do sit.
They say into society again I’ll never fit.