From the recording The Oubliette
No one comes around anymore
He is the furthest thing from their mind
Henry thinks that he’s going home
But he was abandoned here, and here he’ll stay
As kind as a man can be
Discarded with hardly a word
He doesn’t yet know
His whole world is gone
A warm smile and hopeful eyes
Greeting everyone as a friend
Inoculated against woe
Of doom and gloom he’s unaware
Patient is he, waiting in vain
For the door to open
They’re analyzing (agonizing), penalizing (neutralizing), criticizing (minimizing), fantasizing (ostracizing), paralyzing, supervising (and surmising)
all will be lost soon
At times the hazy static in his
mind would give way
to momentary lucidity.
real and focused as sunlight
Separations vanish as his senses would thoughtlessly betray
[Reality or merely] the memory (of a memory) here?
Only to forget, only to vanish
Awake and in the
moment yet pitifully unaware
He knows with resolute conviction here he does not belong.
The dull ache of an absence he's yet to realize
This parting yet to be understood
"Let me go," he begs.
With tearful eyes,
to hide he’s desperate
He wants to scream yet still he
Hoping for Mary.
This ceaseless dream confounds, bears no understanding
“Am I a prisoner?” His fears swirl and swarm like flies
Parades of unfamiliar faces passing by
Stolen from his home or his home stolen from him?