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.
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