The Lady stands with scales in hand, A blindfold tied by law\'s command. She cannot see your race or grace, Your social standing, name, or face. She vows to weigh the facts alone, Impartial on her marble throne.
But tilt your head and look real close, At what the goddess values most. For though her eyes are bound in white, She seems to have a second sight. A radar tuned to leather folds, And green-backed weight a wallet holds.
She cannot see the tears you cry, But catches glimpses on the sly, Of plastic cards with golden sheen, And crisp banknotes of emerald green. The blindfold thins, the fabric clears, As wealth\'s sweet music hits her ears.
The scales will tip, the gavel falls, Echoing through the courthouse walls. \"All men are equal,\" so they say, But some can buy a brighter day. For justice might be blind to crime, But she sees your wallet every time.