Prison On Route 41 - Calexico, Iron, Wine

There’s a prison on Route 41

A home to my father, first cousin, and son

And I visit on every weekend

Not with my body but with prayers that I send

I’ve a reason for my absentee

And no lack of love for my dear family

But my savior is not Christ the Lord

But one named Virginia whom I live my life for

Because I owe mine to her

And I’d rot in that prison for sure

If she’d tossed me aside

And not shown me the way to abide

By the creed, the law of the land

So unlike my uncle, grandpa, and great aunt

Whom I’d most likely see every day

If not for the righteous pair of Virginia’s legs

There’s a prison on Route 41

Home to my mother, stepbrother, and son

And I’d tear down that jail by myself

If not for Virginia who made me somebody else

And I owe all to her

I’d rot in that prison for sure

If she’d tossed me aside

And not shown me the way to abide

By the precepts of her purity

So unlike the habits of my whole family

Whom I only see down on my knees

In prayer by Virginia whom I live for to please