Most things never work out
Exactly as they're planned
Finding out there's not enough fingers to count
All of life's daily demands

Not much to-do with running smooth
That you could hope to find
With judge and crew keeping a thumb on you
Guilty in your prime

Sentenced to hard labor
The remainder of your days
You could sell your soul for early parole
As the jury in your case takes points away

Try as hard as you might you'll never quite find
Even while raising your hand in demand
The slip and slide on the smooth part of life
Never goes as planned