Can’t Wash my Hands
(Verse 1)
Well, we hit the high life, mama, lordie and were doin’ fine.
Got the mansion, maid, and Mercedes, drinking Perignon wine.
Lookin’ back we coulda seen it comin’ on down the line.
Yeah, but it takes some blind-eye-turnin’, mama, not to see the signs.
It was my best friend, Bobby, told me we should take a slice
Of the *gold* in that big apple pie, and, mama, it was nice.
But the sliver made me shiver for silver, so, we did it twice.
But didn’t the bite turned bitter, when someone else paid the price.
(Chorus)
The guilt of their innocence, injustice is ever heavy on me.
I’m trapped in a spiraling lifetime of crime, and it won’t let me be.
Mercy me, how much my conscience stands…
I can’t wash my hands…
(Verse 2)
We blazed a trail of crooked schemes all across the land.
You were young, and I was wild, and I said, ‘Baby, I’m takin’ your hand.’
But, married life takes a backseat under occupational demands.
And, then, a twisted turn of events wasn’t in our plans.
(Chorus)
The guilt of their innocence, injustice is ever heavy on me.
I’m trapped in a spiraling lifetime of crime, and it won’t let me be.
Mercy me, how much my conscience stands…
I can’t wash my hands…
(Bridge)
A jewelry store, off-duty cop, then…
He reached for my gun, and Bobby dropped him…
A cry from his son, “Somebody stop them!”
His daddy dead on the floor, and as we ran, I could hear him scream!
Every night in my dreams!
~ Frantic musical Interlude ~
(break in style…transition to fatal hip-hop)
(Verse 3)
To become such partners in Crime, you see, is a Life sentence.
It means you’re in till the end, and there’s no room for repentance.
My love, this business is ruthless, let there be no doubt.
A man gives in to his conscience? Ain’t but one way out.
And, so, one day, in I came, and it was clear in my eyes
As I stared straight at Bobby it’d come the time for goodbyes.
There can’t just one just walk away from such a criminal band.
Because there’s too much to lose…ergo the gun in my hand.
And there he sat, at his desk; he was my once best friend.
He slowly reached for the drawer, and said, “I guess this is the end.”
The shadows, they grew…the clock, it ticked on the wall.
And then the shatter of glass and footsteps ran down the hall.
In flew our two little sons, “I shot you!” one of them said.
“No, I’m the one that shot *you*! So, now you lie dead!”
And then he ran to his father; my son held up his fist,
Clenched broken glass in his hand, and blood was flowing…down…his wrist.
(Chorus)
The guilt of their innocence, injustice is ever heavy on me.
I’m trapped in a spiraling lifetime of crime, and it won’t let me be!!!
Mercy me, how much my conscience stands!
Can’t wash my…hands!
Can’t wash my…hands!
Can’t wash my…hands!
Can’t wash my…hands!
(repeat, fade)
(Prison Sounds…
Sound of Prison Door Closing…)
(c) 2017 timmyC123