Paintings from Michael

I like the one with the sky storm

The one with the abandoned barn

I heard you painted in prison

Right before they took your brushes away

Michael, I don't know you

But I dream of you sometimes

To tell you the truth

I don't you did to deserve such hard times

I'd read to you on Sundays

Right before they took your visits away

I'd kept all the letters you'd send

The ones about being home again

Michael, I don't know you

But I dream of you sometimes

To tell you the truth

I don't know what you did to deserve such hard times

When you paint the pretty women

Do you see them in your cell?

When they take you out for field work

Do you hear the city bells?