Oh, he listens to the countdown, every Sunday morning From a cold solitary prison cell And the music from his radio is like freedom down a dirt toad Makes that eight by ten a brighter hill
Before he started doing all the hard time that he's doing He was singing in them honky-tonks and dives He dreamed of being somebody, now he's number 37405
Well she used to come and see him, every other weekend And bring him all the news from way back home It's been two birthdays since he's kissed her, Five seconds since he's missed her Now the perfume on those letters ain't that strong
He's got too much time to think about the night he had too much to drink And all his buddies, they begged him not to drive Mr. Life of the Party, he's now number 37405
Old judge on the bench said, "Son, your crime's got consequences." It's what he told him, fifteen years ago He took a life and that's a fact, he'd give his own to give it back Today's the day he finally gets parole
He turns in them prison clothes, and stands there at the forkin' road And mama prays and waits while he decides And the angels close their eyes...
Listens to the birds sing on a perfect autumn morning Just down the road, rings an old church bellTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
