Lyrics

On the third day of November came my final Quentin dawn,
A duffel bag of memories and a past I could not pawn,
I looked round for someone, but a face I could not find,
Just the cold wind of the winter and the taste of leaving time.

She rolled up in a Lincoln, pulled up quiet by my side,
Window down and angel's voice while I’m swallowing my pride,
Her eyes held no conviction just a calm amazing grace,
I stop here most every week, can I help you find a place?

Oh, the lady in the Lincoln, why she stopped I'll never know,
She picked me up, when I was down with nowhere left to go,
In a world that had forgotten, Mother Mary smiled on me,
She didn't see the felon, just the man that I could be.

We're driving through the city, past the streets I used to run,
She's talking to a convict like I’m still somebody’s son,
She don’t preach no sermons or condemn the life I’ve led,
She just said I think we're here and your new life lies ahead.

Everybody stumbles man, hell everybody falls,
Rise up from the ashes, no more breaking out those walls,
A 45 200 aint’ the man you’re meant to be,
Find your way and chase the dream, be the light your Mama seen.

Oh, the lady in the Lincoln, why she stopped I'll never know,
She picked me up, when I was down with nowhere left to go,
In a world that had forgotten, Mother Mary smiled on me,
She didn't see the felon, just the man that I could be.