Evidentiary Penitentiary
Soaking suds at the pub
and somebody said, Son.
One just ain't enough
but three is too many.
And don't forget about when,
You're running on empty.
You want to paint the town.
With your fave gal Wendy.
Then the Judge says, now.
They have evidentiary.
I Gotta lock You down.
Inside the Penitentiary
And you're not getting out.
For half of this Century.
Seems like three.
May lead to tragedy.
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