There's a white prism with phony jism

spread across its face

and the soulful convicts forever interred

lose the smile across their faces

The smile that registered hopes or dreams

has proven just a waste



And I'm the indentured servant

forever in his place

and I'm the indentured servant

forever in his place



I wish I built a cabinet

of shiny bolts and wood

secret draws and hiding places

sculpted out of wood

Secret places, secret lies

in a desk lying alone



Secret letter written to you

to be read when you're alone

secret letter written to you

to be read when you're alone



It says, I'm your indentured servant

I can no longer pretend

that I'm a lover or an equal

I'm not even a friend

I'm not good enough to serve you

I'm not good enough to stay



So it is that I beseech you

to please turn me away

so it is that I beseech you

to please turn me away



Turn me away

turn me away

turn me away



I'm asking you to let me go

it hurts me when you're sad

and I can not do better than this

which must surely make you mad

I'd be better off in your cabinet

or in a prison made of cloth



Crouched beneath your dress I come

shooting little spurts

crouched beneath your dress I come

shooting little spurts



I'm your indentured servant

but even I have pride

in what I make or say or do

although I've lots to hide

I hide from freedom and I hide from you

'cause you've found me out



I belong in prison beneath your legs

in a cabinet that I've built

beneath a candle in a secret drawer

in a prison by a moat



I'm your in