[Intro — Spoken] Redemption Road. From First Ave blackout nights, to the cellblock echo, the county's fluorescent hum, to rehab mornings with chipped mugs — then fatherhood, when I finally took flight. I keep the light. [Verse 1] First Ave at midnight, streetlight glow, breath in cold air, An envelope slid under my car seat, a dealer's number, same dare. Two o'clock, sirens like a drumline, cuffed with hands that shook, Mirrored tile in a holding cell, my name on a booking book. Cellblock doors that clap like fists, the concrete remembers names, A shouted count, a slot of daylight — iron bars, small flames. I learned to trade truth for paper, quick cash with quicker lies, Fists traded for dues, black eyes for alibis. But beneath my jacket, a photo folded thin and worn, Three sideways smiles on cheap paper — a promise torn. [Pre-Chorus ] I stood before a judge; the gavel hit like rain, A bracelet on my wrist counting sober days and pain. One quiet voice at dawn — "Dad, will you stay tonight?" — That small plea pulled me from the dark; I chose to fight. [Chorus ] Redemption Road — I keep the light, Redemption Road — I keep the light for you. Redemption Road — say it through the night, Redemption Road — I keep the light for you. [Verse 2] First sober morning in rehab: sunlight through slatted blinds, Row of chipped mugs in the kitchen, the smell of black coffee binds. Orientation circle, names said slow, hands meeting hands in trust, We traded stories, paid our debts, watched our smoke turn to dust. I remember the first bedtime — my voice was clumsy, worn, A dinosaur book and sleepy yawns, knees softened, hearts warmed. I braided hair, fixed a splinter, sang a chorus off the page, Felt my past shrink in the corner, felt my promise disengage. Court papers filed for custody, a stamped parole with ink gone dry, I put the old contacts in a drawer, left the numbers to the sky. [Pre-Chorus — Variation] Three pairs of shoes by the doorway, syrup on the plate, I learned the map of small hands, learned to be on time to wait. No more blackout blur, no more fists in the night, I folded up my choices and I held them to the light. [Chorus ] Redemption Road — I keep the light, Redemption Road — I keep the light for you. Redemption Road — say it through the night, Redemption Road — I keep the light for you. [Bridge — Rap (Vivid Images)] Handcuffs cold as winter, keys jangling in the cuffbox, Cell door swings, concrete sings, my pulse knocks against the locks. A paper bracelet, a parole stamp, the parole officer's grin, An envelope on the passenger seat — used to feel like sin. Morning at the ward: sunspots on linoleum floors, A counselor said "One day at a time," I tied my broken laces, closed old doors. Tore the list of numbers, watched the ash curl like a prayer, Burned the jacket with the pockets full of easy money's glare. I picture small heads clustered, a story asked again, My voice finds steady rhythm — "Once upon a time," then when. From courthouse lin