There's nothing as cold as the freeze in your soul
At the moment when you are arrested
There's nothing as real as the iron and steel
On the handcuffs when you protested
You race through the night in the prison of fright
As you head for the quicksand of questions
And children unborn will see you in scorn
If ever you make a confession
And the click of a lock is a shiver of shock
As you wonder what are their objectives
Upon your guard for the voices are hard
That belong to the cops and detectives
And it's hard to believe as they roll up their sleeves
That you're in for more than a session
And it couldn't be true and it's not really you
That they want to make a confession
You cannot conceal the confussion you feel
As they steadily work to out-guess you
And some will pretend they are really your friend
Who rally around to your rescue
With frightening force your mind is divorced
To give them the guilty impression
Every word that you hear is a weapon of fear
To win the war of confessions
The lights shoot a glare like bullets they stare
And burn out the base of conviction
And you squint and you blink and you try not to think
Of the cobwebs of contridictions
And your clothes will be wet with the rivers of sweat
That tells the tale of attention
And once in awhile the clock has to smile
As it counts the time of confession
The questions will rain and pour on your brain
With the proper speed they are driven
The circles they pace and the sneer on their face
Tells you no quarter is given
You can salvage your mind when the paper is signed
Then the crime is solved by oppression
But win, lose, or draw, it's the rule of the law
To always work for confession
And the balance of scales seems distant and pale
In the shadowy days of the trial
And sometimes they die; with their name on a lie
When it's all too late for denial
When agreement is full the switch must be pulled
And the chair leaves no hope for correction
But the chances are large he was guilty as charged
After all, he made a confession