I guess you recognize the handcuffs

That binds the wrists of a boy

That paints with words

Who the fuck is Lazarus?

Spitting your spittle in my face

Hiding your inadequacy

Behind mirrored glass

Whilst I was driving through

The Nevada desert

I refuse to slaughter you a son

I wasn't the one plowing your daughter's fields

But given the chance I'd do it

Just to fuck you off

You're not the first to hear Oedipus scream

Your name in the dark

You pretend not to hear

And just fabricate

It was a trash can Sinatra cat

Serenading fleas from the decrepit part

Of your beautiful neighbourhood

Traction evades my footing

Whilst you exert the force of your fucking shoving

Bouncing my head against the roof

Of your panda patrol car

Breathing in dust and sand

Into a mouth that can sprout a million eloquent words

Staring at the standard issue boots

Analyzing its cracks and wear and tear

I guess you recognize the raw pink flesh

A burnt ring of fire wrapped around my wrists?

Did I catch a glimpse, a smile

A twinkle in your eye from the acknowledgment

Of the mark you left on me

A new acquisition, a new commission

Oh Catherine de Medeci!

Denied me blow job from your night-stick

I get a kiss instead squarely planted to the back of my head

Cast out for something called original sin

I turned into a serpent

And bit my tongue

To hold back words of venom

I swallowed hard

To stop myself from spitting in your face

Who will police the police

I asked as they lead me away?

I guess I should recognize

This is the way it's going to be

And get used to the feeling

Of steel on skin and taking the heat

Here's to you, uniformed whore

It's just another day on the beat