Tekster: Queensryche. Promised Land. Out Of Mind.

Little girl sits in the corner, locked in a stare
Arms waving madly at something that sadly isn't there
Dressed in the day's best by a nurse who's nowhere to be found
What does she see? Maybe she's looking at me

Old man is strapped to the seat of his chair, wearing a gown
Shouting and cursing at someone who clearly isn't around
Father Time has twisted his mind, the staff says he's not well
To whom does he speak? Maybe he's speaking to me

So, we keep these people inside these walls from society
Their forgotten lives safe from the crowd, they can't leave

You've left them here

So, we keep these people inside these walls from society
Their forgotten lives safe from the crowd, they can't leave
Through the doors come people like me, goodbye to them
They see a picture few of us see, they can't leave

You've left them here with me