The Case of Caylee Anthony

In the middle of Florida,
a child went missin'
who usually gets the cold-shoulder,
but this time, we all went lookin'
for this little girl,
that a mother hurled
out the window.
Out of the shadow,
comes a tragedy
and a sorrow
that will last through tomorrow.

A girl went missin'
and Ma waited a month
after she went killin'
her mind went soft
and she called the cops.
They ask her a few questions, and she stops,
and studders, so they cuff her,
and she gets even quieter
but they don't press charges,
on the partier,
the cold-blooded mother.

The grandparents want her back,
and for the officials to pick up the slack,
and for all the others to not look at the white and black,
and for the cops to make the case crack,
but that doesn't happen,
'cause the coppers are nappin'
and then along comes an itch,
many call her a bitch,
and says that the grandma did it,
the public is split,
between the two sides.
But the cops don't quit,
although they felt like it.

Ahh, little miss Nancy says it's them
who killed the poor little girl
who put her in the shape that she's in,
that it's them who hurled
the life of a child
into the untamed, crazy lands,
that just don't understand
that it ain't alright
to be so quiet
in a situation like this.
It's only, only right
to do what's right.

Oh, and the protesters gather
'round the home so lonely
of Grandmother, of Grandfather,
a place once quite homely.
Ahh, but it ain't that way no more,
'cause some cranky rednecks say,
"We're here to stay!"
The protesters're gettin'
the road to look like a home to woes.
And against the status quoes
it ain't the grandma or grandpa,
it's the mom that's the foe
it's her that fled to Desolation Row.

Wearin' face-sized sunglasses
that cover her whole face
and she calls the authorities asses,
and she don't know that ain't her place,
but what do I know right?
I'm just the guy doin' what he feels
is right, but I won't kneel
to a code of ethics askin' me
to sit back and watch the reels
of film a-rollin' from some old wheels.

Taken from her home,
'round the bend,
the cold-ma roams
through the warm Florida wind.
Ahh, but it ain't her fault,
or so she says,
and only one man goes her way
to agree with her,
and it's the kid who pays
for the ma that plays.

Cameras show her
at the local Target
buying some rope and tape and more,
and yet no one suspected
that she was gonna kill
her little girl for nothing,
so she never bore a wedding ring,
but what're gonna do?
When lil' ol' Caylee'll never mingle
with others, or jingle jangle in the moring?

When the cops investigate
the ma's little car,
the media all but wait
for the results to put her behind bars.
All the while, protesters camp
outside the home
of the grandparents alone,
and they ain't done nothin'
to Caylee Anthony that never asked for a loan
or never ran away from home.

Darkness at break of day
and a child is missin'.
Thought of death is held at bay,
'cause the good people are still lookin'
but it ain't them to blame,
if they haven't found her yet.
No one made a bet
on finding the poor girl,
society hasn't even met
the mother who cast the net.

Jesus and the Lord say don't lie,
but ma does it anyway
and she says it ain't her
fault she spoke some lies.
You gotta be kiddin' me!
Ahh, why doesn't she just tell
us if she's in a well,
in the woods,
in Heaven? She ain't in Hell,
no, no, no, that won't sell.