The Last One Standing

The lawyer lived high where the city lights burned,

In a house bought with money that never was earned.

He had marble floors and a brand-new name,

But the man in the mirror still carried the blame.

He saw the old Judge in the evening news,

Heard the whispers of the sentence he sold.

Then the phone started ringing, but nobody spoke,

And every night he woke to the sound of a door.

I’m the last one standing, the last one to blame,

You took ten years and you sold my name.

You stood in that courtroom and watched me go down,

While you and that judge split the money in town.

You called it justice, you called it the law,

But you knew every word was a lie from the start.

Now the truth is knocking, and I’m standing outside—

The last one standing has nowhere to hide.

He found the lawyer sitting alone in his room,

Surrounded by papers and the smell of perfume.

The lawyer looked up and his whole face went white,

Said, “I knew you were coming… I knew you’d come tonight.”

“You were young, you were scared, and they needed a name.

The judge made the offer. I played their game.

They gave me the money, I gave them your life.

And I told myself lies so I could sleep at night.”

I’m the last one standing, the last one to blame,

You took ten years and you sold my name.

You stood in that courtroom and watched me go down,

While you and that judge split the money in town.

You called it justice, you called it the law,

But you knew every word was a lie from the start.

Now the truth is knocking, and I’m standing outside—

The last one standing has nowhere to hide.

The lawyer fell down on his knees and cried,

“I can give you the names. I can tell you who lied.”

He pulled out a file from a locked iron case,

With signatures, payments, and every disgrace.

The man held the papers and stared at the proof,

Ten years of his life written down in black ink.

The lawyer said, “Please… let the law take its course.”

He answered, “The law had its chance.”

I’m the last one standing, the last one to blame,

You took ten years and you sold my name.

The judge is gone, and the truth’s finally here,

But no courtroom can give me back those lost years.

You called it justice, you called it the law,

But justice was missing the night that I fell.

Now the whole world will know what you did for a fee—

And the last one standing…

Is finally free.

The sheriff found him sitting beneath the courthouse sign,

The old Judge beside him, smoke curling into the night.

The lawyer’s confession was sitting in his hand,

And every crooked name was written in black.

The sheriff said, “Son… it’s over now.”

He looked toward the sunrise.

“No,” he said quietly.

“It started ten years ago.”

Then he dropped the gun into the dirt,

And walked away.

For the first time in ten years…

With nothing left to run from.