Lyrics:

Got out of prison back in '86
And I found a wife
Walked the clean and narrow
Just trying to stay out and stay alive

Got a job at the rendering plant
It ain't going to make me rich
In the darkness before dinner comes
Sometimes I can feel the itch

I got a cold mind
To go tripping 'cross that thin line
I'm sick of doing straight time

My uncle's at the evening table
Makes his living running hot cars
Slips me a hundred-dollar bill
Says, 'Charlie, you best remember who your friends are'

I got a cold mind
To go tripping 'cross that thin line
I ain't making straight time

Eight years in
It feels like you're gonna die
But you get used to anything
Sooner or later, it just becomes your life

Kitchen floor in the evening
Tossing my little babies high
Mary's smiling, but she's watching me
Out of the corner of her eye

Seems you can't get
Any more than half-free
Step out onto the front porch
And suck the cold air deep inside of me

I got a cold mind
To go tripping 'cross that thin line
I'm sick of doing straight time

In the basement
Hunting gun and a hacksaw
Sip a beer and thirteen
Inches of barrel drop to the floor

Come home in the evening
Can't get the smell from my hands
Lay my head down on the pillow
And go drifting off into foreign lands