Parole may have different meanings depending on the field and judiciary system.[vague] All of the meanings originated from the French parole (“voice”, “spoken word”). Following its use in late-resurrected Anglo-French chivalric practice, the term became associated with the release of prisoners based on prisoners giving their word of honor to abide by certain restrictions. Parole should not be confused with probation, as parole is serving the remainder of a sentence outside of prison, where probation is given instead of a prison sentence and as such, tends to place more rigid obligations upon the individual serving the term.
In criminal justice systems, parole is the supervised release of a prisoner before the completion of their sentence in prison. This differs from amnesty or commutation of sentence in that parolees are still considered to be serving their sentences, and may be returned to prison if they violate the conditions of their parole. A specific type of parole is medical parole or compassionate release which is the release of prisoners on medical or humanitarian grounds. Conditions of parole often include things such as obeying the law, refraining from drug and alcohol use, avoiding contact with the parolee's victims, obtaining employment, and maintaining required contacts with a parole officer. Some justice systems, such as the United States federal system, place defendants on supervised release after serving their entire prison sentence; this is not the same as parole. In Colorado, parole is an additional punishment after the entire prison sentence is served - it is called 'mandatory parole', per §18-1.3-401(1)(a)(V)(B).
Maybe I'm not your favorite
It's too bad you're not mine
Someone once tried to tell me
To leave this all behind
You and I are forever
I cut your name in me
I'm gonna bleed us together
In crimson harmony
And I will taste your mind
Fill it full with empty feelings
Disobey the signs
Drag you out and then throw you away
Can you see me coming?
I'll be coming home today
I ring your bell there's no answer
Changed the locks on me
I called your mom and she told me
That you're afraid of me
But I won't be disregarded
I won't be turned away
I'll finish up what you started
You're gonna pay today
And I will taste your mind
Fill it full with empty feelings
Disobey the signs
Drag you out and then throw you away
Can you see me coming?
I'll be coming home today
Can you see me coming?
I'll be coming home today
I'm on my way
My world is dead without you
I'm all alone
No more lying and no more fighting
But violence is so inviting
No more hatred, no more sex
My body aches and my muscles flex
And I will taste your mind
Fill it full with empty feelings
Disobey the signs
Drag you out and then throw you away
Can you see me coming?
I'll be coming home today
Can you see me coming?
F.Guccini
Parole, son parole, e quante mai ne ho adoperate
e quante lette e poi sentite,
a raffica, trasmesse, a mano tesa, sussurrate,
sputate, a tanti giri, riverite,
adatte alla mattina, messe in abito da sera,
all'osteria citabili o a Cortina, o a Marghera.
Con gioia di parole ci riempiamo le mascelle
e in aria le facciamo rimbalzare
e se le cento usate sono in fondo sempre quelle
non è importante poi comunicare,
è come l'uomo solo, che fischietta dal terrore
e vuole nel silenzio udire un suono, far rumore.
Mio caro amore
si è un po' come commessi viaggiatori
con campionari di parole e umori
a ritmi di trecento e più al minuto;
amore muto
beati i letterari marinai
così sul taciturno e cerca guai
così inventati e pieni di coraggio.
Io non son quei marinai, parole in rima
ne ho già dette
(e tante, strano, ma ne faccio dire)
nostalgiche, incazzate, quanto basta maledette,
ironiche quel tanto per servire
a grattarsi un po' la rogna, soffocati dal collare
adatto per i cani o per la gogna del giullare.
Poi andare sopra un palco per compenso o l'emozione:
chi non ha mai sognato di provare?
Sia chi ha capito tutto e tutto sa per professione
ed ha un orgasmo a scrivere o a fischiare,
sia quelli che ti adorano fedeli e senza intoppi,
coi santi non si scherza, abbasso il Milan, viva Coppi!
Amore sappi
beato chi ha le musiche importanti,
le orchestre, luci e viole sviolinanti,
non queste mie di fil di ferro e spago;
amore vago,
mi tocca coi miei due giri costanti
far il make-up a metonimie erranti:
che gaffe proprio all'età della ragione.
E sì son tanti gli anni, ma se guardo ancora pochi,
Voltaire non ci ha insegnato ancora niente,
è questo quel periodo in cui i ruggiti si fan fiochi
oppure si ruggisce veramente
ed io del topo sovrastrutturale me ne frego;
chi sia Voltaire mi dite? va be', dopo ve lo spiego.
E se pensate questi i vaniloqui di un anziano
lo ammetto, ma mettiamoci d'accordo
conosco gente pia, gente che sa guardar lontano
e alla maturità dicon sia sordo
perché i rincoglioniti d'ogni parte odian parecchio
la libertà e la chiamano "vagiti",
o "ostie" di un vecchi.
Amore a specchio,
è tanto bello urlare dagli schermi,
gettare a terra falsi pachidermi
coprendo ad urla il vuoto ed il timore.
Qui sul mio onore,
smetterei di giocar con le parole
ma è un vizio antico e poi quando ci vuole
per la battuta mi farei spellare.
Eee, le chiacchiere son tante e se ne fan continuamente,
è tanto bello dar fiato alle trombe
o il vino o robe esotiche rimbomban nella mente
esplodono parole come bombe,
pillacchere di fango, poesie dette sulla sedia,
ghirlande di semantica e gran tango dei mass-media.
Dibattito, dal vivo, miti, spot, ex-cineforum,
talk-show, magazine, trend, poi TV e radio
telegiornale, spazi, nuovo, gadget, pista, quorum,
dietrismo, le tangenti, rock e stadio,
deviati, bombe, agenti, buco e forza del destino,
scazzato, paranoia e gran minestra dello spino.
Amore fino
lo so che in questo modo cerco guai
ma non sopporto questi parolai
non dire più che ci son dentro anch'io,
amore mio
se il gioco è esser furbo o intelligente
ti voglio presentare della gente
e certamente presto capirai.
Ci sono, sai, nascosti, dietro a pieghe di risate
che tiran giù i palazzi dei coglioni,
più sobri e più discreti e che fan meno puttanate
di me che scrivo in rima le canzoni,
i clown senza illusioni, fucilati ad ogni muro
se stan così le cose dei buffoni sia il futuro.
Son quelli che distinguono parole da parole
e sanno scegliere fra Mer'causeio e Mina,
che fanno i giocolieri fra le verità e le mode,
i Franti che sghignazzano a dottrina,
che irridono ai proverbi e berceran disincantati:
Put down that phone and listen
Baby, how can you be so unkind?
If they catch me out of line only one more time
I'll be down in the slammer 'fore you count to nine
I didn't mean to step out without you
And I'm sorry way down in my soul
But you know it ain't easy being on
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Before they throw me in the hole
I got to get my dose of Rock and Roll
And it ain't easy being on
Parole with you baby, baby let go
Put down that gun and listen
If you shoot it would be such a waste
'Cause any one of these days, I just might change my ways
And I won't be around to see the look on your face
I know that it might make you happy
To fill my body full of holes
But you know it ain't easy being on
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Before they throw me in the hole
I got to get my dose of Rock and Roll
And it ain't easy being on
Parole with you baby, baby let go
Put down the phone and put down the gun
Please let me know you still believe in me, hon
Put down the phone and put down the gun
Please let me know you still believe in me, honey
Put down the phone and put down the gun
Please let me know you still believe in me, honey
Put down the phone and put down the gun
Please let me know you still believe in me, hon
I didn't mean to step out without you
And I'm sorry way down in my soul
But you know it ain't easy being on
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Before they come to get my soul
I got to get my dose of Rock and Roll
And I'd do anything to get off on
Parole with you baby, baby, let go
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
Parole with you baby
on the edge on the edge
i believe im on the edge
and through a window dirty window
and need some light and air
and she came upon my window with a promise of love
just lie through the skin on yyour teeth and she's sure to let you go
i dont really want you to leave now im on parole
consumed by the love of another im on parole
i catch my breath my smokey breath
for the first time in a century
these prison walls filthy walls look better looking out than looking in
then she came upon my window with a promise of love
just lie through the skin on your teeth and she's sure to let you go
Immortal Technique, (Parole Officer)
(980505A)
yea nigga what
(you made parole)
what?
(pack your stuff)
the fuck?
(and get the fuck out of here)
ayo man, its about motherfucking time man
ayo g, ayo g son, i got my papers man
I'm out this motherfucker
verse:
I'm out of jail and I'm never going back again
never selling heroine, never selling crack again
don't work for the government coke packaging
don't fire indiscriminate with the mack again
my people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin
they pretend to give a fuck, just like the vatican
second chance faith based, two faced, samaritans
everytime we come back, they keep on cashing in
prison labor third world sweatshop comparisons
till we kidnap the whole fucking garrison
(yea) poverty makes people do reckless things
but corporations do worse to protect their bling
prisons are more overcrowded than the rap game
they say you are more likely to go to jail with a black
name
freakonomics that I speak through ebonics
and fuck phonics, little niggas is hooked on chronic
but if you on stage with the DEA as your hype man
don't get yourself locked up and blame the white man
with transformed gangs and criminal enterprises
using OGs as advisors
before they send us to war after they divide us
but I won't let them use us like Teddy Roosevelt's
Rough Riders
my movement is like a jujitsu kata
i graduated outta prison, so fuck my alma mater, nigga
chorus (caller)
(hello)
yea yea whats up yo
(inaudible)
yo you know what I just got my papers
(goodbye)
yo I'm coming home to you I'll see you in like a day
and a half
(inaudible)
yea I'm dead serious baby, I'm coming home
put the little blue thing on for me aight
I'm on parole and I'll never be alone again
fuck this place baby, I'm coming home again
shorty wrapped around me, so I'll never be cold again
never have to knock a nigga out for the phone again
prison ain't the place that you find your right of
passage in
it's slavery with nasty food in your abdomen
middle passage bottom of the ship, how they pack em in
perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin
jailhouse snitches without corroborating evidence
niggas selling niggas out for two to three benjamins
but now I'm free, hit the block eating Entenmann's
beni-hana in and out, flow for me to enter in
newspaper penciling, trying to pay the rent again
ex-con job interview nobody answering
feeling violent from the frustration I got pent up in
but not trying to go back to the place I was centering
turn my own life around, fuck the establishment
listening to hip hop, like where the fuck the talent
went
how the fuck did you replace lyrics with your
swaggering
Ima fix that rhyming on with the magnum
I roll up in a caravan, full of North Africans
my squad got more soldier niggas than the Saracens
you just watch, when the terrorists attack again
their reaction is gonna be draft em and send us back
again
I'm on parole and I'll never be alone again
fuck this place baby, I'm coming home again
shorty wrapped around me, so I'll never be cold again
never have to knock a nigga out for the phone again
prison ain't the place that you find your right of
passage in
it's slavery with nasty food in your abdomen
middle passage bottom of the ship, how they pack em in
perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin