I'm twirling in white dresses,
Dreaming of cakes and candles and pretty things
It's lunchtime and it's real time and
that man is wearing handcuffs outside my office window.
I watch him.
He pops his gum, shrugs, shuffles slowly out...
I press my lips together, knuckles white, and shudder.
Quietly, in the furthest corner of my mind,
I cry quickly, desperately, pleadingly
"We are not the same!"
But what I cannot shake,
Is that still, small whisper saying
Mister, you and I, we are not so very different.