[Verse]
There's a place you are sent if you haven't been good
And it's made of spikes and wood
And it isn't wide enough to sit, and even if you could
There are nails on the bottom, so you'll wish you'd stood
When the hinges creak and the door is closed
You cannot see squat, not the end of your nose
And when you scream, you don't know if the sounds came out
Or if the scream in your head even reached your mouth