| There’s a prison on Route 41
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| A home to my father, first cousin, and son
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| And I visit on every weekend
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| Not with my body but with prayers that I send
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| I’ve a reason for my absentee
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| And no lack of love for my dear family
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| But my savior is not Christ the Lord
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| But one named Virginia whom I live my life for
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| Because I owe mine to her
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| And I’d rot in that prison for sure
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| If she’d tossed me aside
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| And not shown me the way to abide
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| By the creed, the law of the land
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| So unlike my uncle, grandpa, and great aunt
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| Whom I’d most likely see every day
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| If not for the righteous pair of Virginia’s legs
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| There’s a prison on Route 41
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| Home to my mother, stepbrother, and son
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| And I’d tear down that jail by myself
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| If not for Virginia who made me somebody else
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| And I owe all to her
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| I’d rot in that prison for sure
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| If she’d tossed me aside
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| And not shown me the way to abide
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| By the precepts of her purity
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| So unlike the habits of my whole family
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| Whom I only see down on my knees
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| In prayer by Virginia whom I live for to please |