If I wrote a letter to the early Chirstians
dashed a memo off to the Apostle Paul
I would tell them all about Alcatraz
while waiting for my friend not to call
she went in with all her heart
and out it was torn
Alcatraz was a prison from 1868
until the year I was born
first called the Isle of the Pelicans
beautiful, white, like her wedding day
she smiling in the forest preserve
they circling San Francisco Bay
on the inaccessible rock, a prison was designed
in an irremediable situation, my friend was confined
though not to swim to the Golden Gate Bridge
or escape burrowing the old cement walls
she found relief in a bottle
from the bills and impervious Kingdom Hall
I would tell Peter and James that in 1969
The Sioux reclaimed Alcatraz  to prove they still had a spine
my friend too   made her stand
every night at AA
I would tell them on their throne far above
not to take our friendship, even for a year, away
but it's after midnight, and 
I think heaven's got caller ID
though it seems like 'doing time on the Rock'
remember you deserve to be happy, and of him you are now free
because on Alcatraz  ~ the pelicans are back
and every curious tourist ~ it's cells attract
dark anguished prison corners are now in history's old suitcase
so wear your self esteem and confidence, like I remember the
smile beaming on your face