Ｃrappy Ｐunk Ｒock

GARY GILMORE'S EYES

I'm lying in a hospital,I'm pinned against the bed.A stethoscope upon my heart,A hand against my head.They're peeling off the bandages.I'm wincing in the light.The nurse is looking anxious,And she's quivering in fright...I'm looking through Gary Gilmore's eyes.The doctors are avoiding me.My vision is confused.I listen to my earphones,And I catch the evening news.A murderer's been killed,And he donates his sight to science.I'm locked into a private ward.I realise that I must be...Looking through Gary Gilmore's eyes.Looking through Gary Gilmore's eyes.I smash the light in anger.Push my bed against the door.I close my lids across my eyes,And wish to see no more.The eye receives the messages,And sends them to the brain.No guarantee the stimuli must be perceived the same...When looking through Gary Gilmore's eyes.Gary don't need his eyes to see.Gary and his eyes have parted company.