Cold metal on the bottom
That's what it was, no toilet seat, just shinny metal
Cold, and strange
But that's how our inmates sit on the throne
More inmates than any other country in the world
Cold metal on the bottom, that's it
It was a strange experience, not because there was no toilet seat,
My poetry teacher gave us an assignment
Go for a walk, sit somewhere for awhile
Then write some things down
I do that all the time, but not on cold metal on the bottom
I was sitting in meditation with the men, in the chapel, in the prison,
Nature called when you are my age you learn to answer in the moment not
Some time soon….get it?
The chaplain gave me some choices, I guess because I'm not an inmate
So I entered the door with a sign on it, inmates only
There it was a metal throne with out a seat
I paused only a second, nature was yelling by now
And so I sat on the cold metal with no seat
Teacher, you ask how did I feel?
Hm, relived and free…who needs a seat...