My baby surrendered to fate And I couldn’t even say how I felt later on that evening Stating my name to the officer’s aide was in vain Cause I knew they were out to get me
Place four of five fingers flat on a sticky plastic bat Scan my blue bloodshot eyes for the history of my trials
When crimes are passionate can love be separate?
En route to my cell I retraced every step and found a way to redact and retell my story No evidence and no witness to summon or finesse I confess, it all sounds unlikely
A sweaty, paranoid palm pressed against a leathered wall The law in all its flaws, me in an oversized overall
When crimes are passionate can love be separate?
Baby it’s a bad, bad law It’s a bad, bad law, Geronimo Baby it’s a bad, bad law It’s a bad, bad law, Geronimo
I straddled out on the stand My defense scrawled on my hand Killed time and time again but then I lost again