I walked around the prison walls, on my daily rounds,
Everywhere I looked there were pebbles on the ground.
Some were made of granite, most of them were not,
They were crystal stones in different tones, colors, hues and dots.
I put a handful in my pocket, they melted all away.
I asked an old time Officer, he’s worked here most his days,
“Why can’t I hold these crystal stones, why do they melt away?”
He said, “My boy they're tears of stone, that fall alone, when nights turn into days.
Some are from the Officers, some are from the Walls,
Some are from the Souls of men who walked these hollowed halls.
An Officer’s tears are for his friends and brothers that he’s lost,
And all the daily hardships that this life brings about.
The Souls of men cry instead, for the old days that are past,
They walk these halls, all night long, no shadows do they cast.
The Walls cry tears for all the souls, for all the fears it’s cost,
For all the Officers wearing blue, who were lonely, sad, and lost.
In the year two thousand four, fourteen in blue did perish,
To suicide, they died alone, confused and full of sorrow,
I’m sure they cried tears of stone, thinking of no tomorrows.
Throughout the State of New York, where crystal stones abound,
These fourteen souls have left their friends in a state that is confound.
“So if you need to wash my boy, to wash away your sorrow,
Grab two handfuls of these stones and raise them to the towers.
The tears of stone will wet your eyes, and wash away your sorrow,
And don’t forget to say a prayer for the stones of no tomorrows”.
By Officer Mike Connors 3-23-05
Gowanda Correctional Facility 2004
New York State Dept. of Corrections
