18 hours a dayn7 days a weeknLocked up in this godforsaken jointnnAnything you saynI turn the other cheeknYou’d be amazed what one will do at gun-pointnnHeal me, please heal menI need something bad, something to call my ownnWon’t you heal me, please heal menI need something bad, something to call my ownnnHad me dig a gravenWhen men without no soulnBeat my friend to death when she escapednnA new millennium slavenStuck in a hellholenA piece of property, born to be rapednnHeal me, please heal menI need something bad, something to call my ownnWon’t you heal me, please heal menI need something bad, something to call my ownnnI was sold, a thousand dollars flatnMondays are slow, special leftover feenWon’t get old, I am aware of thatnBut I’ll go free…nnHeal me, please heal menI need something bad, something to call my ownnWon’t you heal me, please heal menI need something bad, something to call my ownn(To Salma)