Black draped, bottled water in hand,
Walking out the shadow to the desert sand.
From the pokey to the palace in a blacked-out limo,
Prosecutors painting monsters but the picture is a window,
To a setup, a vendetta, or a script gone wrong,
Two years in the making now the truth’s in a song.
Cops asking questions, audio don't lie,
Kids saying "No" while the parents try to pry.
Shackles off, let the eagle fly,
Underneath that New Mexico sky.
Is it a con or a crime?
Is it truth or a lie?
From the cell to the castle, waving goodbye.
Seven-fifty a night for the Airbnb,
Melissa’s at the door but he’s never truly free.
Retaliation for a role that they didn't get to keep,
While the secrets of the cast are the secrets that they reap.
He’s back at the estate tonight.
Case pending.
Just another day in the headlines.
