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The Interrogation Room
I'm interrogating myself like a criminal these days,
To somehow understand why I did what I did.
And in that interrogation room,
Things get ugly sometimes,
When I beat myself with the same questions over and over again,
Trying to find a loop hole in my own story,
To finally understand the reason behind my arrest.
And in that interrogation room,
I allow myself a lawyer sometimes,
Who backs up every thing I say with evidences I didn't know exist,
With alibis and facts to protect myself,
From my own allegations.
And in that interrogation room,
I convict myself sometimes,
And bail myself out too,
For I'm the one who did the crimes,
And I'm the one who is the victim too.
