Mason Maestro


Justis


The pleading of a man in his cold cage
Or the deeds of a man in his prime
Thoughts shuffle in gloom in the courtroom
Your lawyer talks to you as he lies

Life is a short, warm moment
And death is a long cold rest
You got your case tried in the twinkling of an eye
Twenty years to life, or even less

To prison you're dragged for the compound tour
And whether you're innocent or not
And mind how you, and I can tell you, 'cause I know
You may find it hard to get off

A Judge is the angel of death
And Death is in bed with the judge
Justice was buried like a mole in a fox hole
And the truth is still in the smudge

And who is the master of fox hounds?
And who says the hunt is even real?
And who calls the tune in the courtroom?
And who beats the drum for your appeal?

The strings of the law from its first days
Are the strings in the stitch of its prime
You shuffle in hell in your jail cell
And talk to yourself till you die

Submitted: Thursday, June 14, 2012

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