I’m two months out of prison and I haven’t got a job.
I spend my daytimes looking for a place that I can rob.
My father often warned me I would meet a tragic end.
But I paid him no heed, alas. Now no man is my friend.
My years in jail conditioned me to live by evil means.
In stir, yes, sir, it’s black and white. There are no in betweens.
For those who knew me once, I think you’d recognize me still.
But now my eyes are cold and my first instinct is to kill.
An ex-con has ten ways to lose for every chance to win.
I’m livin’ at the corner of cruel memory and sin.
And if I’m seen outside your door, it’s best to hide your kin.
If I knock twice, take my advice and do not let me in.