The officer in oxford suit does wait,
No badge, no gun, erotic fantasy.
He’s standing tall and walks with swollen gait;
What’s honor in an honest lying spree?
Relinquish not the hope of sodomy.
What beckons you to civil capture feign,
To scratch the itch that bids you bark at me?
Must be you wherewith involved in cocaine.
Yet judge me not lest ye be judged the same.
What man has business of mine lyrics sung,
Which crime this stone discharged at me pertains?
Will find the prick and choke out his last strum!
For you’ve forgotten nature’s golden rule:
Not I subordinate to thee, you mule!