The D.A. is dressed to the nines.
In the mirror he practices all his lines.
To his closing argument twelve hearts beat in favor.
I’m guessing that he read the morning paper.
The headline reads, «The Man Hangs, But The Jury Doesn’t».
And everyone’s looking for relief.
United States versus disbelief.
Mothers cast tears on both sides of the aisle.
Clear your throat and face the war.
The verdict falls like bachelors or bad luck girls.
Only breathing with the aid of denial.
Case open, case shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket.
Baby boy can’t lift this headache up…
Isn’t it tragic? (Whoaaa-ooo.)
He glances at his peers sitting, seven to twelve sacked.
On one to six the gallery is hushed.
Boys in three pieces dream of grandstanding and bravado.
The city sleeps in a cell not withstanding what we all know.
Hang on a rope or baited breath.
Whichever you prefer.
And everyone’s looking for relief.
A bidding war for an old friend’s grief.
The coffin kid, the coffin’s charm and the cause.
Not a word that could make you comprehend.
Too well dressed for the witness stand.
The press prays for whichever headline’s worse.
Case open, case shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket.
Baby boy can’t lift this headache up.
Isn’t it tragic? (Whoaaa-ooo.)
Fresh pressed suit and tie.
I am desperate, sing and die.
Can talk my way out of anything.
The foreman reads the verdict:
«In the above entitled actions we find the defendant,
Guilty…»
Case open, case shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket.
Baby boy can’t lift this headache up.
Isn’t it tragic?
Case open, case shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket.
Baby boy can’t lift this headache up.
Isn’t it tragic? (Whoaaa-ooo.)
