I'm writing a letter, my darling, to tell you I'm well
Things could be better - Oh darling, I'm living in hell
I take what I recall of your love and your grace
I try to make it my own
It's been three years and ninety-six days
Since they made this place our home
They caught a broken man, tired of the chase
As you watched through the window
I'm the number 3-1-9-6 slave
And I'm in this place alone

The whites of my eyes
They reflect your silhouette
The whites of my eyes
They reflect - They reflect…

All of the prisoners are angry and innocent too
I torture myself day after day about things I can't undo
The only comfort I take is in this endless letter
To you
The only comfort I take is in this endless letter
To you

The sun lit your silhouette
Through your blue cotton dress
The sun lit your silhouette
Through your blue cotton dress
The sun lit your silhouette



Lyrics submitted by stumblena


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