I Don't Really Have a Choice - summer 2003

The steps are cold
But here I sit
The door is closed
But here I stay
I cannot hear
But still I listen
I cannot see
But still I watch
They told me I don’t want to be there
But what if I do?
I don’t really have a choice
All I see are shadows
Moving under the door
All I hear are mumbled voices
Under the noise of the washing machine
I do not know what they are saying
Still, I know it can’t be good
I don’t want to be a part of it
I know that for a fact
But I don’t really have a choice