Oxymoron

Fucked up the simplest of chores
Mister constant consternation
And his declaration of war
Makes a fist out of demands
With his plasticene hands
Matey makes a big, big deal
And matey makes a big big meal
Boasts of a conscience so big
It means his uniform won’t fit
Cooking books and punching drunks
Working for the real crooks
The good cop
Oxymoron
I don’t believe in the good cop
I don’t believe in the good cop
I don’t believe
At the ticket inspector’s party
Prison guards eye store detectives
All good fighters of crime
Same repeated chat-up line
Are you well tooled up Come and have a go if you think
You’re hard enough
Watch them tighten their straps
Yes sir I switched on the taps
Heads to crack, eyes to black
Bureaucrats will cover your tracks
Here’s how your dictatorships begin
Fools obey without thinking
The good cop
Oxymoron
I don’t believe in the good cop
I don’t believe in the good cop
I don’t believe