Like a record player on repeat, you follow the process through,

Reiterating words which once had meaning, but they are meaningless too.

Mouthing languages of forbidden secrets, your eyes are in a cell,

They cannot betray the innocent ones, ones that did not know it was hell.

You know the routine, syllable by syllable, letter by letter, each,

You only endeavour to be freed from it, but that you cannot reach,

They believe your lies, because too much faith, is enough to trap you within,

You continue to rewind that vile record player, or else it would truly be a sin.