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 world.
The verdict falls like bachelors for 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 his headache head.
Isn't it tragic? (Whoaaa-ooo.)

He glances at his peers sitting, seven to twelve,
Stacked 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 bated breath.
Whichever you prefer.

And everyone's looking for relief.
A bidding war for an old friend's grief.
The cause, the kid, the cause, the charm and the curse.
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 his headache head.
Isn't it tragic? (Whoaaa-ooo.)

Fresh pressed suit and tie.
Unimpressed birds 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 his headache head.
Isn't it tragic?

Case open, case shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket.
Baby boy can't lift his headache head.
Isn't it tragic? (Whoaaa-ooo.)