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If we listen to the wind will we hear the call?
What of the years we spent “Back against the wall”

Years they come and they go “All is the same”
When you find yourself with a number for a name

First they load you on a bus in a paper suit
Making jokes with the homeboys “Bro you sure are cute”

Then comes the dreaded ride on the prison bus
Transport guards let you know “Don’t even mess with us”

You finally reach R&R really quite the treat
“I don’t care what you need I said take a seat”

As 5 minutes passes by you think of all the years
Getting set in your mind to face all your fears

You do the things that you must do in order to survive
Unless your one of the unlucky ones who doesn’t make it out alive

You don’t even realize that you are overwhelmed with hate
As the day finally comes and you make it out the gate

Then your back on the streets as healthy as can be
Hooking up the party life like when you were free

Just as though some real smart dude planned this to design
Because of the number on your back you are right back doing time

Then you catch a second term and this one is a strike
Nothing new ahead of you it’s just like riding a bike

Soon as you hit the yard you fall into your routine
Everyday like the one before one hell of a bad dream

Then again you are released but nothing is as it seems
Because your life has turned into one long desperate dream

You are driven by a desire to rise up to the top
For some reason that desire just won’t seem to stop

Even though your doing well against everything you feel
You go against your heart and soul to conjure up a deal

As the pitcher takes the mound you step to the plate
Problem is he’s throwing hard and you are swinging late

You want so bad to hit the ball as it whizzes by
You hang your head full of dread with no tears left to cry

Now you’re back in the cell with an L and 37 years
Maybe now you’ll have the time to face all those fears

The year’s forever come and go like dust in the wind
The only thing that I know “I sure do miss my friend”


I dedicate this poem to my dear friend
who is currently fighting the California
three strikes law for his life. If you
could please hold him in prayer thank you.
       Jesse (REDMAN) Wasson
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