My mother didn't raise me to be no jailbird
Doing time ain't her idea of a steady job
County jail is not the place she wants to find me
A prison jumpsuit ain't what she wants me to wear

I didn't have to be a doctor or a lawyer
Could've been any honest trade that I might choose
Instead of standing here in line with my meal tray
Never having nothing but the blues

Please quit calling me from jail, son
To raise you right I know I failed
Still it breaks my heart to know you're in there
Please quit calling me from jail

I might of had a business suit and a briefcase
A pretty wife, a bank account, a brand new car
Instead of being a low down drunken loser
Wondering how in the hell did I get here

Oh, you will never know how much it hurts me
Just to think my oldest boy is behind bars
All I hope is that your brother and your sister
Will not follow the path you are on

Please quit calling me from jail, son
To raise you right I know I failed
I have done all I could do for you
Please quit calling me from jail

Copyright: O/B/O DistroKid
Writer(s): Gregory Davis