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<\/a>Ode to the Crum.<\/p>\n
Slamming doors, dirty floors,<\/p>\n
Screams at night, one off the twos, fucking screws,<\/p>\n
Stinking food, lock up now, slam those flaps,<\/p>\n
Thick stone walls, rusted bars<\/p>\n
Man I hate that Crum.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Seeing the governor, seeing the quack, seeing ghosts<\/p>\n
Big T\u2019s on the radio, visitor for 556, get your parcel,<\/p>\n
Down the tunnel, hanging cell, alarm bell,<\/p>\n
Stiff sheets, itchy blankets, bed packs, search team in,<\/p>\n
Man I hate that Crum.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Three to a cell, locked all day, here is hell,<\/p>\n
Strip search here, strip search there, open the gate and just wait,<\/p>\n
Can\u2019t sleep at night, can\u2019t stay awake all day,<\/p>\n
One hour walk, smell of stench, mystery parcels fly<\/p>\n
Man I hate that Crum.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Greasy topped tea in plastic mugs, steel pressed trays, and slop as food<\/p>\n
Bumpered floors, padded cell,\u00a0 on remand , on the threes,<\/p>\n
On the Boards, thick stone walls, thick set grills, in the circle,<\/p>\n
Shouting, bawling, football in the yard,<\/p>\n
Man I hate that Crum.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And now I\u2019m back, no more the noise, cells are empty<\/p>\n
Men all gone, so small and lonely, no screws to taunt,<\/p>\n
The quiet landings hold their memories, I stand still,<\/p>\n
The guide reels off his spin, no more the banter.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Man I remember that Crum.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n