Prison is Still Prison

You can grow roses in the chain link
But barbed wire is still it's crown
You can tell me we'll be free someday
But they're useless words for someone about to drown

You can play for me an orchestra
But it's empty sound for someone who prefers buskers
You can line everything in perfect symmetry
But it's useless for someone who thrives in clutter

You can hold me close in the most perfect arms
And they feel like nothing but chains
You try and try to make me a happy life
But I'm only ensnared with no one but myself to blame