the morality police in the united states

they come down on you with their silver badges and rusted hearts, nightstick morality, a fist of laws so tight you can hear my knuckles crack. they'll jail the hungry, the weak, the lost while their own hands stink of greed, of white cocaine powder trails, nights twisted up in back rooms with drinks and dirty deals. they call it credit card justice, where a fee is charged, just to use it. they call it order, but it's a dark laugh that sticks in your throat and leaves you sick, unable to clear it.