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Jailyard Blues

Time stands still for the cooler king, Hey, Hilts, throw the baseball and Don't sweat a thing; Listen up close and the bell will ring And the cons in their cradles will swing and swing. The jailyard blues rap a hollow sound And the future may lie in a Hole in the ground; Some fools like to think they're homeward bound, But revolving doors spin around and around. And the Devil he knows a thing or two About sinners and souls and Fixing a Jew; But what the hell can an inmate do, Stuck behind bars in a human zoo? Cabbages, kings and gaoler keys, Kicking back in the yard and just Shooting the breeze; Crawling the concrete and cracking some fleas, Crime is the cure and I'm the disease. Woke up this morning and misplaced my name, But my friend on the outside still Harbours the flame; And it burns with a vengeance nobody can tame, The girl thinks the world, ain't it always the same?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005




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