Carl had done many bad deeds,
always to satisfy his sickening needs.
But his latest crime haunted him still;
the thought of that day still gives him a chill.
Carl knew his life would never be the same,
always on the run, only himself to blame.
Pure desperation describes that day best,
his crime at that bank would prevent any rest.
Carl peeked through the curtain, paranoia running wild,
with a soul awash in guilt and a crying inner-child.
They would soon catch him and convict based on his shirt’s stain;
oh how Carl regret’s stealing the bank’s pen with the chain.
—O’Brien & Yates
[Words by Richard O’Brien. Image by Richard F. Yates.]