It’s one thing to say it
But another to write it down
Says, the lawyer to his
Pre-Madonna client wearing a crown
Of lunacy, yes that will be the defense
Look at her wide eyes, and plump pout
Make-up smeared, somehow reminding him of a dirty fence
Like the ones you see in those movies
Where the wife stays home all day cooking
For an ungrateful alcoholic husband
Yes, that’s it, he turns to the mad looking
Woman, "does he have a drinking problem?"
"Wait don’t answer", too much for me to know
Like her guilt or innocence, who
Cares the court room is like a show
That the 12 audience members must
Judge, holding her life in their hands,
Scary isn’t it, to think that
A group of don’t- wanna-b here people are in control
And the money-making hand across the desk
Must perform a balancing act
A jaw dropping production
To keep her if-only-I- had-listened-to mom’s life in tact
She breaths deep, closing her eyes
Pretending not to care that he is still staring at her breasts
Guess he’s entitled to, she thought, if
Not-guilty is where the verdict will rest.
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