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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
We stood in a long line waitin' for the door be unlocked Out in the cold wind, âround the razor wire fenced in cell block Young mamas with babies, sisters and other kinds of kin At Tallulah State Prison on Thanksgiving Day Weâre waiting to get in You gotta get here early It donât matter how many miles you drove They make you wait for hours, jailers always move slow They run names, check numbers Gravel faced guards they donât smile Grammy and me in line, silently waitin' single file Thanksgiving at the prison, surrounded by families Road weary pilgrims who show up faithfully Sometimes love ainât easy, sometimes love ainât free My Grammy looks so old now Her hair is soft and white like the snow And her hands tremble When they frisk her from her head to her toes They make her take her winter coat off Then they frisk her again When theyâre done she wipes their touch off her dress Stands tall and heads in It's thanksgiving at the prison, surrounded by families Road weary pilgrims who show up faithfully Even though it ainât easy, even though it ainât free Sometimes love ainât easy, I guess love ainât free |