Number 37405 - Tim McGraw

Oh, he listens to the countdown every Sunday morning

From a cold solitary prison cell

And the music from his radio is like freedom down a dirt road

Makes that eight by ten a brighter hell

Before he started doing all the hard time that he’s doing

He was singing in them honky-tonks and dives

He dreamed of being somebody, now he’s number 37 405

Well she used to come and see him every other weekend

And bring him all the news from way back home

It’s been two birthdays since he’s kissed her

Five seconds since he’s missed her

Now the perfume on those letters ain’t that strong

He’s got too much time to think about the night he had too much to drink

And all his buddies, they begged him not to drive

Mr. Life of the Party is now number 37 405

Old judge on the bench said, «Son, your crime’s got consequences.»

It’s what he told him fifteen years ago

He took a life and that’s a fact, he’d give his own to give it back

Today’s the day he finally gets parole

He turns in them prison clothes, and stands there at the fork in the road

And mama prays and waits while he decides

And the angels close their eyes

Listens to the birds sing on a perfect autumn morning

Just down the road rings an old church bell