‘He walks into the room
He’s got a briefcase like a bomb.
A smile on both faces,
And he calls it aplomb
He wants a bite of your apple,
Hands you back the peel.
He’s fresh out of law school
He’s got a license to steal’
All she wanted was a bit of help in her time of need.
She was struggling to keep up with demands in her old age, and reached out to him.
A professional, confident, with a nice smile and a fancy briefcase.
So she trusted him with her life.
Right up until he fleeced her for all that she had left.
He said he would help. He lied.
He took a bite of the apple, then took the whole tree.
The poor old woman learnt the hard way not to trust two-faced men like you.
‘When he offers his advice
You can guarantee,
For several hundred dollars an hour
He will see just how many complications your life will reveal.
He’s fresh out of law school
He’s got a license to steal’
He charged by the hour, offering legal advice amounting to nothing more than his lies and bravado.
As it turns out, the old woman that he had taken advantage of had a rather well connected family.
His briefcase didn’t shield him from the bullets, nor could he talk or plead his way out.
He died a slow and painful death. They made sure of that after they cut out his tongue.
His words couldn’t help him.
This song is all that is left of his story, they never found the body.
‘He’s poking his nose into people’s despair,
When tragedy strikes he will always be there.
Looking so cool,
His greed is hard to conceal.
He’s fresh out of law school
You gave him a license to steal’
Your words, Wolfe, are your undoing. Spoken or written, your words amount to nothing more than a little man walking around in big shoes with a lust for power.
Charming fools that need to be charmed with a winning smile.
Impressing fools with your power suit and briefcase to get ahead.
Taking advantage of clients may line your pockets, but you’re always one bad deal away from an unmarked grave.
‘Blow a lawyer to pieces
It’s the obvious way.
Don’t wait for a thesis,
Do it today.
Take him to the court of no final appeal
When you’re fresh out of lairs
How good will it feel!’
Fools who trust you at your word gave you a license to steal, extorting their wealth for a rubber stamp on a piece of paper. But you will pay the price for your words in blood. Lies and corruption will catch up with you in the end, Conservator Wolfe.
Your luck will run out and they will blow you to pieces. It’s inevitable, as it is written in your song.
Words are power, Wolfe.
Your words have power to ruin peoples’ lives. Mine have power to end yours.
La muerte llega.
My words have more lasting power than a legal document.