Circumstances being what they’ve recently become,
Perhaps I’m more suited for the life of a bum.
I’ll hang up my loop, leave forensics behind,
Turning my back on the ol’ office grind.
I’ll turn in my keys and I’ll empty out my locker,
I’ll grease up the wheels on my trusty ol’ walker.
Their facade of being ethical is nothing more than burlesque,
The decisions of the staff seeming suddenly grotesque.
Do the right thing for the right reason I’ve preached,
To every young recruit I was able to reach.
Perhaps I’ve been wrong, naive or misguided,
Because “cover your ass” is how most things are decided.
So, I’ll head out the door with my head held up high,
I’ll call it a career with a nod and a sigh.
Others will take over, I won’t even be missed,
Don’t cry for me, I’m not really pissed.
Artista di Parole