Criminal

They sat me down

in the big green police chair

With a big green light cornering my soul.

They said:

You tell us who's the boogey man, ma'am

You point out the Criminal.

And they tell me they can tell I'm a

First-class, top-notch, jury-duty, law-abiding

Kind of chick.

So, I flash my big, bright smile, I say:

Well, I'm glad that's what you think.

And they hand me a box of composites

Stacked in some kind of alphabetical caste

Where last names don't seem to matter,

Goes from A to Black to Blacker.

But I'm a model-citizen and

Model-citizens don't cause kinks.

Yes, I'm a model-citizen

So I sit my top-notch ass down to think.

In the morning paper, they say:

Those spam-eating spics

are out to scam your family.

Yeah, they'll rob your job,

Soak up the last three drops in this

Trickle down, down,

Down-under country.

Well, while big-business takes its little piggies

To market

By keeping us dependent,

The morning paper says:

The Criminal's

The Immigrant.

And on the four o'clock pop-rock talk show, Joe says:

Yeah, a dyke is easy to spot.

She looks like a man, talks like a man, acts like a man, Yeah

But she's sure as hell not.

And all the other guests say:

Yeah, Joe, I think she's out to get your woman.

And by five o'clock, all the other Joe's in America know

The Criminal's

The Lesbian

And on the TV News, it's:

Poor Black Women (colon) The Expert Opinion

And all these white male scholars saying:

Well, she shouldn't have a baby if she can't feed him.

But she shouldn't have an abortion either,

She should just know better.

You see, knowledge is power

Yeah, but power is money and

Money's what matters.

And in the New York Times,

it's handcuffed protestors in Seattle

And the headline reads:

Angry Activists Start a Battle

And the World Bank Leaders and the WTO

And Disney and Visa and Mansanto

And Goodyear and Texaco

All smile and say:

Sure is nice to own the paper on a day like today!

So, I'm sitting in the big, green police chair

With a big, green light cornering my soul.

They say:

You tell us who's the boogey man, ma'am

You point out the criminal

So I finger the composites stacked in my hand,

I flash my big, bright model-citizen smile.

I say:

I'm sorry Sir.

But the criminal

Ain't in this pile.