Jailbirds In The Bighouse

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They built a prison by the freeway
Just to rub it in
It's a gentle reminder
Of the wages of sin
The ones on the inside
Are being paid their share
There's a hundred stories
For every man in there
There's marks on the cell wall
There's marks on the mem
One counts off the time lost
The other counts till the end

Jailbirds in the bighouse
Jailbirds in the sky
Singing of their innocence
They'll sing by and by

Jailbirds in the bighouse
Jailbirds on a spree
Some of them coulda looked like you
Some of them used to look like me

Teddy was a bad kid
From a bad family tree
He was voted most likely
To commit a felony
And that was just in grade school
After that he disappeared
They say he moved or he dropped out
And he's faded with the years
A red hand in the cookie jar
A foot in potter's field
His face was waiting for a number
His fate was aching to be sealed


Teddy had a girlfriend
Who gave him a place to stay
But he left with her TV set
And a baby on the way
And if you should run across him
He could shorten your life
With the butt of a pistol
Or the edge of a knife
He'll sing a song of the rockpile
Mourning all he had
All the luck in all the world
And most of it was bad

Autor(es): John Gorka

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