Sunday, February 13, 2011


Right place wrong time,
In the crosshair,
Even though, I guess I had that kind of face,
Picked out in a line up,
Some kid didn’t know any better,
Probably scared to death, just doing what his lawyer said,
I don’t put any of this on his shoulders,
Nah, even if I did, he’s the only one to visit me that alone’s got to count for something
I’m certainly not a judge or law man,
But I’m not a criminal either, despite what the nameplates say,
Years remembered how things should have been
Get out on Tuesday
I’ve been doing my homework
And I alone now know who’s to blame
Wednesday morning,
Even at the age I’m at,
What’s that they call me now?
Oh yeah, rehabilitated,
The way they describe it, it sounds a lot like penance,
You do something wrong, you talk to a priest, he tells you to pray a few prayers, and you’re okay,
Yep, come Wednesday afternoon, I’ll be in a pew, just me and a couple thousand Hail Mary’s,
If these ten years can so easily defined as rehabilitation,
Then I got a word for that first day I get out, Retribution,
Hell will be paid. That’s a guarantee

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