Third Degree Songtext / Lyric

Got me accused of peeping, I can't see a thing.
Got me accused of petting, I can't even raise my hand.

Bad luck, bad luck is killing me.
Well I just can't stand no more of this third degree.

Got me accused of murder, I ain't harmed a man.
Got me accused of forgery, I can't even write my name.

Chorus

Got me accused of taxes, I ain't got a dime.
Got me accused of children, and ain't nary one of them was mine.

Chorus