Jacob hated the picture that hung on the wall,
The man had never been there to answer his call,
And he hated it since before he was four,
when he'd left them and walked out the door,
But he hated it mostly because it was his dad,
Yes, Jacob the child was very very mad.
Then at the age of twelve he got a tattoo
and the tattoo it said, "Dad, one rude dude",
And he joined a gang with tears on their eyes,
he cussed, smoked, drank, vandalized
robbed him a store almost got shot,
stole him a car and finally got caught.
So with a wrap sheet as long as his arm,
he did two years in Juvie, one on a farm,
learned nothing, stabbed some guy,
and landed in a prison without any sky.
And that's where Jacob met Big John.
A lifer, he'd had seen men come, seen then go,
And seen a lot of pain, hate, and death in his years,
but nothing that had brought him to tears.
That was until he met John.
When John met Jacob, asked him his name,
and Jacob replied, "It's Jacob McCain".
The ache in his heart made him cry,
which he denied, "The sun's in my eye."
For John knew when he heard that name,
he knew they were one in the same,
for this was the child crying on the floor,
the one he'd left walking out the door.
So John made a decision out in the yard,
On Jacob he'd be particularly hard,
For he had lessons he had to learn,
Lessons to learn he'd never return
Then John set out to see what he was about,
and find him a way to help the kid get out
And Jacob never knew why John was there,
why he befriended him, or how much he cared
And John he pushed him, pushed him everyday,
For what John done he knew he would pay
And they'd do it together, every last one,
do it together until it was done,
And time it did crawl from the first to the last,
and when probation day came the kid he did pass
So John went to his cell, and took the notes,
the old that yellowed, the white he'd just wrote.
And looking for Jacob, the time it was just right,
passed him the notes, the yellow and the white
And the Yellow it said,
This letter has yellowed I've kept so long,
will tell you what I did wrong,
that I am the father that left you at four,
and my reasons for walking out of the door.
Leaving you son was never my choice,
so open your heart now and hear my voice,
Being fatherless myself I'm praying you'll be,
having had no father much better than me.
And the white it said
This letter that's white is all about good,
knowing you'll do as I know you should.
Believe it or not, if I had it again,
I'd loved you much more and never had sinned
Now saying son it's not easy to say,
for being in prison has made me that way,
But living within you should be no desire,
for being in prison or burning hell fire.
Lastly son if nothing else,
remember the rest of your life,
to never return do what is right.
Remember I loved you when you were but four,
and love doesn't stop when you walk out of a door.
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