Patrols on the boundaries
In prison cells and factories
On your phone and old TV
In between the lines we read
No suits no conspiracy
Just a lack of agency
Who’s the perp, run the APB
Just look in the mirror and look for me Pop that pretty thirty, pop that pretty thirty, pop
The haves and the have-nots
The bottom and the top
Black market and mall shops
You are all the cops
99 and 1 percenters
Dissenters and defenders
Slum lords and renters
A comedy of pretenders
We are all the cops
Greed, glory and fear
The eyes, the ears
No panopticon, just dads and moms
Keep calm and carry on Vignettes of silhouettes
Popping up as the sun sets
Settlers heading ever west
Looking for souls to digest