It’s beginning to look a lot like Kismet
for some folks we know.
First get booked, go to trial, and then
maybe off to the pen
for laundering and squandering much dough.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Kismet
for a certain corps.
So some prison time there might be
for committing felony—
slammed, the iron door.

Then don a hot poplin suit,
’cause fashion is now moot;
there’s no slick outfits in the pen.
Offer to talk on the table has not
been availed of by several men.
Stay mum—too bad, hard time awaits.
The rule is: don’t offend.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Kismet
for some folks we know,
who might be in graybar hotel,
where things don’t go so well,
as nearly every prison picture shows.

It’s beginning to look a lot like prison…
doomed for taking part
in such things as bling laundering,
and in fibbed linguistic flings—
Those you shouldn’t start.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Kismet,
and the hellish part:
In the slammer, you’re not the king
that you were with all your bling.
When does your term start?