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| White Collar Crime by © vatooz The Priest sat in the airport bar. He was taking it on the lamb A one way ticket to Argentina And a crumbled telegram He was facing thirteen charges And he could no longer hide Behind his robe and crosses So he bought himself a ride Like the telltale heart he listened To each step as it drew near Every passing child's eye Was like a nightmare's mirror. He grabbed his sweat stained collar And he threw it on the floor He left his rosary on the table He wouldn't need it any more He slowly started walking With a box beneath his arm Past the custom agents He triggered their alarm He said he had a bomb And although it was not true He got them to relieve him Of what he put his conscience through. |
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