He knew that he was not the one That dark and and dismal night Who pulled the trigger of his gun And ended someone’s life The plan had gone awfully awry He was the one they caught No one there was meant to die At least, that’s what he’d thought But now he’s in a small white room The detective is leaning in And yelling things they must assume Since they have the evidence The detective grabbed onto his shame And wrung out all his pride They beat and held him over flames He had nowhere he could hide Thoughts incessantly swirling And no way to get reprieve He started second guessing The things he once believed His memory began to mold To what they put into his head ‘Till he admitted what they had sold “It’s because of me that man is dead”