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I'm writing a letter, my darling, to tell you I'm wellThings could be better - Oh darling, I'm living in hellI take what I recall of your love and your graceI try to make it my ownIt's been three years and ninety-six daysSince they made this place our homeThey caught a broken man, tired of the chaseAs you watched through the windowI'm the number 3-1-9-6 slaveAnd I'm in this place aloneThe whites of my eyesThey reflect your silhouetteThe whites of my eyesThey reflect - They reflect...All of the prisoners are angry and innocent tooI torture myself day after day about things I can't undoThe only comfort I take is in this endless letterTo youThe only comfort I take is in this endless letterTo youThe sun lit your silhouetteThrough your blue cotton dressThe sun lit your silhouetteThrough your blue cotton dressThe sun lit your silhouette From Letras Mania