The Fourth Door

I've seen a jailhouse morning with a concrete pillow for a

bed where the echoes of my choices kept on ringing

in my head. There's a number on your jumpsuit like they branded your mistakes,

and you learn real quick that freedom ain't the only thing they take.

I've woken up in rehab with the shakes and a busted pride, nurses taking vitals

while I begged the pain inside to die. They said, "Son,

you've got a sickness and it's killing you by day," but the part

they couldn't measure was the soul I'd thrown away. They say there's