I like the prison. (I live near one.) Seeing it feels like home.
The red tile walls, the barbed wire and the surveillance cameras remind me that I'm not the only one in the world who feels trapped sometimes. That not everyone is living the dream. That people can hit rock bottom and get back up.
Even a prison has a daily life. I see deliveries of timber to the carpentry shop, the van that takes prisoners to the court building, the floorball team from the outside which comes once a week to play against the prisoner team, the tired-looking ladies who leave late in the afternoon after their work in the kitchens, the church people (all dressed up) who sometimes visit on Sundays, the relatives and girlfriends who patiently wait for the main gate to open for the weekend visiting hours. I see prisoners in the yard, lifting weights, playing darts or just walking around. They never look up at the sky.
Sometimes when I walk past and the prisoners are sitting at the window in what is probably a common room, they wave at me. I always wave back. Hello, neighbours!
Hey now, hey now
Don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won't win
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