Hey, Charley…what goes through your head at night,
While you lay, confined, in your prison cell,
Serving your sentence in the prelude of Hell?
Do you see Kathleen’s face in the dim light?
Do you still hang on to that one embrace?
That one moment in time when you felt love;
Is that the memory that you most think of?
Does it still bring a smile to your face?
Or maybe it’s Sharon’s face that you see,
All pretty and plump, sliced from stem to stern;
Receiving a fate that she didn’t earn-
Left alone to die, like so much debris.
So tell me, Charley, what? who do you see?
What images are conjured in your mind?
How do you want your life to be defined?
What should be the headline on your marquee?
And what lessons should we learn from your life;
That there is a monster inside us all?
That even the most innocent can fall
Victim to madness and a stranger’s knife?
Or is there a bigger lesson to be learned?
Is there some secret that we cannot see?
Does the answer lie in you or in me?
Is it a lesson that can’t be discerned?
Withered and gray, do you still think you’re Christ?
Were you the ‘Second Coming” that we sought?
Did we misinterpret the lessons you taught
While Sharon Tate was being sliced and diced?
Go on, tell me Charley, what do you see?
What monsters inhabit your nightly dreams?
Charley, can you still hear their dying screams?
Can you hear me? Can you see me? Charley?