Freedom

The sun rises in this cold little shack As I ready to go to work, breaking my back The sun will smolder and scorch my skin But dare I stop and He will whip me again I dream of a daring escape One that I soon hope to make As I have heard that the north will set me free, Free from this grotesque misery On the morrow is what I have planned For my escape from Hells' cold, dark hand As a new day breaks in the cold little shack I have nothing with me by the cloth on my back From Him I am getting away, running Running, dogs barking, running, Climb a tree to escape the hounds from Hell He pulls a gun. This doesn't end well. The sun will rise again on the morrow My escape fulfilled, though full of sorrow.