Paul Manafort’s White-Collar Prison Blues

Jail’s made me quite remorseful.
I was a different Paul then.
Your honor, I haven’t seen Dmitry
Since—what day is it again?
I’m going to white-collar prison,
And my gout’s worse than it’s ever been.
Why does this have to happen
To a man with the color of my skin?

When I was just a toddler
My mother told me, “Bub,
Always be a good boy
Don’t ever mess with rugs,”
But I bought a house in Brooklyn
Just to watch them lie.
When I see my private cell,
I’ll ask my decorator by.

I bet my friends are drinking
On some Russian oligarch’s boat
In international waters
Wearing ostrich coats.
Did I really have this coming?
It’s not like I was selling weed.
But I guess I’m going to prison,
At least ‘til Trump pardons me.