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 the truth I don't know
What you did to deserve such hard time
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?